


They Called You Daka

by Lady_Blackwater



Series: Oakland's Very Own [6]
Category: Black Panther (2018), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abandonment, Angst with a Happy Ending, Black Character(s), Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Erik Killmonger Angst, Erik Killmonger Has Feelings, Erik Killmonger Lives, Erik Killmonger Redemption, Erik Killmonger's Mother - Freeform, Everything Hurts, F/M, Family Drama, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Mommy Issues, Mother-Son Relationship, One Big Happy Family, Sad with a Happy Ending, Self-Discovery, Self-Doubt, Shameless Smut, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:33:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 26,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21693877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Blackwater/pseuds/Lady_Blackwater
Summary: Erik let go of his mother a long time ago...Or, at least he thought he did.
Relationships: Erik Killmonger & Erik Killmonger's Mother, Erik Killmonger/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Oakland's Very Own [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1353331
Comments: 9
Kudos: 51





	1. i.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little bit more serious than what you guys are used to coming from me, especially with an Erik Killmonger story. I usually like to keep his content very lighthearted and funny, but I've always wondered about his mother. So, here ya'll go! I love my beta, HalcyonSeasons.

Being with someone as infamous and well-known as Erik “Killmonger” makes way for a lot of trouble. One thing Erik taught Sienna in the time they’ve been together is to always watch her back, so it became second nature. 

Sienna, even though slightly distracted by the shopping list in her notes app, is well aware of the tall, brown-skinned, and curious looking woman following her around the beauty supply store. Being a regular at this particular shop, she knows the employees well enough to know that this woman doesn’t work here and they wouldn’t follow her if she did. 

Sienna picks up a one hundred piece set of bobby pins and white plastic hair clips, tossing them in the gray shopping basket hanging between her elbow. She takes two steps to the left and drops a super pack of ponytail holders in the basket, vaguely aware of the woman’s presence at the end of the aisle as she pretends to look at merchandise. 

At first, Sienna thinks she’s just being paranoid—why would someone be following _her_ , of all people? _Yeah_ , she and Erik are popular in this area, but no one is crazy enough to try them. 

Sienna glances down at her list and slowly makes her way two aisles over to pick up a tub of edge control and styling foam. She has a few wig orders to complete tonight, so she moves down the aisle to grab a few bottles of holding spray and plastic gloves. As focused as she is on reading the details on a brown bottle of argon oil, she can’t help feeling the woman’s eyes stare her down only feet away. Between the quick glances she’d spared the woman’s way, she doesn’t recognize her, which makes her even more uneasy. 

The woman doesn’t seem like a threat, but the weirdness of the situation is unsettling. 

Sienna continues perusing the aisles, never averting her eyes from anywhere but the merchandise so not to make eye contact with the woman. She picks up a few more things to finish coloring a special order, dread wax for Erik, eyelashes, and stud earrings (she can never keep a pair), and makes her way to the register. Her hyper-fixation on the woman doesn’t let her hear her total, but she inserts her card into the reader on autopilot, mind racing as to how she can get out of here without her stalker seeing which car she drives and following her home.

Sienna reluctantly walks to her car, looking behind her to see if the woman was bold enough to follow her outside. 

“This is ridiculous,” she whispers to herself as she puts her bags in the passenger seat of her white BMW. She has a few more errands to run in the shopping center, but now all she wants to do is go home and forget she ever saw the woman. 

But did she really see the woman? To be fair, she didn’t get a lot of sleep last night considering she was up until four in the morning cleaning her closet and finishing a custom order, so hallucinating isn’t off the table. 

Sienna taps her nails against the roof of the car, contemplating her next move. She could go home and get what she needs tomorrow, but she is far too stubborn to be scared out of enjoying her day by some random who has no sense of boundaries. She could also continue minding her business and be eternally paranoid that some black lady is following her everywhere she goes. 

In the midst of her anxious thinking, the back of her neck tingles in warning, snapping her right out of her thoughts and into defense mode. Twirling with the quickness and a fist raised in the air, Sienna bucks forward. “Yo, what do you want?!” she yells, uncaring of how crazy she looks to anyone watching. 

The woman who was following her stands startled with her arms up in surrender as her wide eyes blink in surprise and a smirk curls onto her lips. Sienna wants to slap it right off her face since she thinks scaring her is funny.

Sienna’s own lip curls in disgust. “Bruh, why are you following me?” she demands, not even remotely interested in being polite. “ _Huh_?” 

The lady has a muscular build, stands at about Sienna’s height if not a little taller, and has thick and bouncy highlighted curls—probably the result of a twist out—surrounding her very amused, stunningly young-looking face. She shakes her head as though to shame herself and her smirk turns into something more genuine the longer she stares at Sienna. 

Sienna takes a step back. “What?” she snaps, thoroughly uneasy with nerves jumping in her stomach. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you, sweetie,” the woman says, and her voice is surprisingly relaxing. “I came to talk to you, but damn it if you not even prettier up close.” 

She blinks at the woman, unsure if she’s reading this right. “Uh, thanks?” she says because Veronica taught her to have manners. “Look, I’m not interested if that’s what you going for. I mean, I fucks with women too, but I’m not looking for a girlfriend.”

The woman chuckles. “Neither am I. I didn’t mean to be creeping on you like that back in the store, but I been needing to talk to you for a minute. You don’t know me, but I know you… kinda. Sienna, right?” 

Sienna takes another step back right into the driver’s door. “Who’s asking?”

“Shit, I have no type of manners, do I? I’m Krystal Stevens,” she says proudly. “I seen yo’ Instagram, I think it’s called,” she explains as though testing out the word for the first time. “Well, the public one, anyway. You a hella talented beautician.” 

“Thank you,” she repeats wearily and gives the woman a once over. “So, you followed me around a beauty supply store to tell me you like my work. Okay. Seems normal,” she mumbles. 

“Look, I seen you around the area, and I had to make sure you was you before I say what I’m about to say. There’s no easy way of approaching you about this without shocking the hell out of you.” 

Sienna wishes she could take another step back, but she braces herself for the worst as the woman clasps her hands together and inhales. 

The woman, Krystal, gestures towards Sienna. “I don’t know any other way to connect to my son except through you.” 

Sienna blinks slowly, trying to register what she just heard. The two women stand there just looking at each other for a moment, until Sienna blinks again like the clarity of her vision will make any of this real. 

“Your son,” she repeats. 

Krystal nods. “I been away for the last twenty-seven years, and I want nothing more than to see him,” she tells her. “I want nothing more than to see him and get to know him. I’m sure he’s everything like his Daddy was and more, and I really need your help getting to him.” 

Sienna blinks a third time, so Krystal keeps going. 

“I know this sound weird, some random woman coming up to you and asking something so big, but it’s the one thing I need to get my life back on track,” she goes on, practically pleading with a sadness in her eyes that rivals that of a kicked puppy’s. “You don’t have to help me, but if you did, it would mean a lot to me.” 

Sienna squints at Krystal, unsure of how to respond mainly because she’s confused and doesn’t want to be the reason why this woman begins crying in this shopping center parking lot. “I’m—” she begins and shrugs. “I’m sorry. I don’t know who you’re talking about?” 

“If anyone can help me find my N’Jadaka, it’s you,” she says simply, and the second she says that name, the gears in Sienna’s head start turning. 

“How do you know that name?” Sienna asks, protectively clutching the gold plated, diamond studded, vibranium necklace reading _N’Jadaka_ that always hangs around her neck. 

“Whatchu mean? That’s what Jobu named him,” she says and then rolls her eyes. “I guess Erik is easier to go by nowadays.” 

“Erik,” she repeats and cocks her head to the side. “N’Jadaka. N’Jobu.” 

Sienna’s brown eyes grow wide as she takes in Krystal’s features, and suddenly all she sees is Erik’s dimples, his dark yet sensitive eyes, thick lips, bushy eyebrows, and pit bull ears. She replays Krystal’s pleads in her head and hears his accent when she talks. 

She said she’d been away for twenty-seven years… away as in imprisoned. Erik told her briefly about his mother being locked up, and not much else. 

“When’s his birthday?” Sienna asks, unready to give into the implications without further proof. 

“May 30th, 1989,” she answers with ease. “He was seven pounds, three ounces.” 

“Middle name?” 

“Bakari,” she says. “It was my brother’s name.”

Erik probably doesn’t even know that. “What is he allergic to?” 

“Strawberries and shellfish. They make his face all puffy and his tongue gets to itching.” 

Sienna _definitely_ didn’t know about the strawberries, and the fact that she didn’t upsets her. She can’t even recall when he told her. 

Sienna shakes her head in disbelief. “You—” She gulps and has to blink again to avoid seeing Erik’s face in hers. “How do I really know you’re who you say you are? You stalked me, so I wouldn’t put it above you to stalk him and learn just enough about him to convince me to help you guys connect. And what happens if you do? How I know you not some crazy tryna get something out of him?” 

Krystal’s gaze zeroes in on how the younger woman protectively grasps the necklace and nods like she’s accepting the challenge. “He has a scar on his right knee from when he fell off his bike when he was six. He went to Bella Vista, right up the street from the apartment the three of us lived in. His father and I used to call him Daka.” 

Sienna definitely didn’t know any of that. Should she? The way Krystal is looking at her makes her think she should. 

“All I want is to meet my son,” she reiterates sincerely. “I didn’t spend damn near thirty years in the pen just to get out, act a fool, and go back and not see my boy.” 

“I’m pretty sure following me around falls under the ‘act a fool,’ category,” Sienna mutters. 

The woman appears amused again, but there’s an appreciation in her tone when she speaks again. “It’s reassuring to know he’s in good hands. I like that you not taking no shit.”

Sienna shakes her head and for the life of her, she can’t let go of her necklace. “I don’t play about him,” she tells Krystal. “You realize this is crazy, right?” 

Krystal nods and looks to the pavement. “I know it is,” she agrees. “The friend I’m staying with told me I should wait on trying to contact him, but I haven’t seen him since the last time Jobu brought him up to the facility when he was eight. When the visits stopped, I thought it was because he was still mad at me about…” She pauses and gestures upward in a weak attempt to refer to something else. “Hearing about what happened to my son’s father and not being able to attend his funeral hurt. Knowing he didn’t even have a funeral hurt too, but knowing my son was moved from foster home to foster home because of everything is a special kind of pain. I just wanna make it right.” 

Something comes over Sienna in that moment, but she’s unsure if she should cry, laugh, give this woman a hug, or interrogate her about her release. She never counted on ever meeting her boyfriend’s mother, least of all like this. There was never a reason to discuss her, which feels conflicting. 

“You haven’t seen him since he was eight?” she asks, fighting back a swarm of emotion. 

“The closest I’ve gotten is them weird paparazzi pictures on that damn ShadeRoom my girlfriends keep tryna make me follow,” she admits with a chuckle and reaches in her back pocket. She pulls out a thick, heavily wrinkled piece of paper and unfolds it to reveal a photo of the cutest, chunkiest, and happiest looking brown baby that Sienna has ever seen, slobbering all over themselves in a high chair. 

“Oh my god,” she gasps, covering her mouth to hide her goofy grin. “Is this Erik?” 

Krystal nods. “He was about eighteen months,” she remembered fondly. “I kept that with me the entire time I was locked up just to remind me what I’m looking forward to seeing when I get out.” 

Sienna doesn’t want to be the one to tell her that Erik is far from the baby in the picture now, so she pulls her phone from her back pocket and swipes through her camera roll until she finds a cute candid she took not too long ago of her and Erik. He wasn’t paying the camera any mind as Sienna smiled at the lens like it just told her she won a million dollars. 

Krystal stares at the picture for a very long moment with an unreadable expression. Sienna can tell she’s taken aback by how grown the baby boy from her picture is, but there’s a hint of sadness in her gaze. 

“He look just like me,” she says after a minute of silence more to herself than Sienna before glancing up from the phone screen at the young woman and handing the device back. “How long you two been going together?”

“Three going on four years,” Sienna tells her with a giddiness she refuses to hide. “I met him after all the, uh, Killmonger drama.” 

“Ah, Killmonger,” she sneers, shaking her head and then meeting Sienna’s eyes again. “That shit.”

“He’s not like that anymore,” Sienna insists, resisting the urge to tell her that Erik runs the Outreach Center. Killmonger comes out sometimes, but it’s nothing to the extreme that it used to be. 

“I’d like to know what he’s like now.” 

Of course she wants to help this woman, but how the fuck is she going to bring it up to Erik? Sienna’s too much of a sweetheart to deny anybody of anything if they ask nicely and it leaves her stuck between a rock and a hard place. The queasy sensation in her stomach tells her nothing but trouble is to come from this, but the erratic beat of her heart tells her it’s the right thing to do. It also doesn’t help that Krystal looks like Erik with one of Sienna’s wigs on, and Lord knows she can’t deny Erik much of anything. 

“I’ll talk to him,” she promises, taking one of Krystal’s hands in both of hers. “You have a number I can reach you at?” 

♡

Erik is hunched over the bathroom sink brushing his teeth when Sienna gets home. Upon seeing her reflection in the mirror before him, he greets her but it comes out mumbled.

She’s too deep in her own thoughts to hear him, so she places her bags on the granite counter of the closet island and her purse on her vanity. Everything that happened earlier is still fresh in her mind to the point where she doesn’t even recall driving home or staring at the home phone number Krystal programmed into her phone. She barely remembers walking up the stairs just now. 

Sienna strips out of her jeans and bodysuit in exchange for the usual compression shorts and hair dye splattered tank top she dons for coloring and styling customers’ wigs. 

She really met Erik’s mother today. 

The realization hits her again as she begins to empty the bags of supplies. 

After thinking all this time that she never would, she did. Ideally, she would’ve met the woman at a family cookout where she would try especially hard to prove she was everything Krystal’s son needed. Instead, she nearly swung on her and damn near had a panic attack the second Krystal said Erik’s birth name. 

She knows Sienna. She _likes_ Sienna. 

And because Sienna is a softie, she agreed to help the two reconnect after not seeing each other for the past twenty-two years.

After seeing that picture of him, there’s no way she couldn’t. 

“So, we don’t say hi no more?” Erik asks, coming up behind Sienna and landing a loud smack against her ass. “Huh?” 

“You play too much,” she pretends to complain with a grin and watches as he walks over to his side of the closet in search of an outfit. “Where you goin’?” 

“Lil’ promo event for, uh...” He pauses and snaps his fingers. “Some clothing line, I think. I don’t remember, but they paying me.”

Sienna leans against the counter, oddly fascinated with watching him be oblivious. “Sounds fun,” she says sarcastically and smirks. “What time you gon’ be home?”

“Prolly early,” he tells her. Early for them means midnight. “Definitely not tryna be out with them niggas long.”

Sienna scans his nearly naked body when he turns to the full length mirror and holds a shirt against his chest. Like it appeared out of nowhere, that scar on his knee that Krystal mentioned stares right back at Sienna. 

“How’d you get that?” she asks, pointing low. “That scar on your knee.” 

He looks down at his legs as an afterthought and then shrugs. “Fell off my bike when my Pops was teaching me how to ride.” 

Sienna nods, dialing back her reaction so not to make him suspicious. “I ain’t never seen it before.” 

“I forget it's there sometimes, to be real.” Erik pulls the black long sleeve over his head and places the hanger back on the rack. “You get what you needed?” 

“Yeah, I did,” she says and twirls her hoop earring to release pent up nerves. “Might go back out to the grocery store and get some stuff for a late dinner since you coming home early.” 

Erik hums in acknowledgment with his back to her as he searches for pants. 

“I was in the mood for rice and jerk chicken,” she says and swallows a huge lump in her throat. “Maybe a strawberry shortcake for dessert.” 

Erik shakes his head with a frown. “Nah, you know I’m allergic to that shit,” he reminds her and pulls a pair of olive green slacks from the depths of his unreal amount of clothes. “Chicken good, though.” 

Even though Sienna doesn’t need much else convincing, that gets her eyes welling up in a mix of relief and sadness. She fights back tears and helps him pick out the rest of his outfit, temporarily ignoring how complicated the situation just got.

♡

In the few days following her encounter with Krystal, Sienna contemplates how to bring her up to Erik. She made a promise to talk to him and update Krystal as soon as possible, so she will. 

She just doesn’t know how. No time seems right. If he’s not at work, he’s too tired to even hold a conversation. If he’s not tired, he’s hosting an event, and if not that, she loses her nerve and simply says “never mind” when she had his attention.

Tonight is an interesting night. 

Erik comes home from a meeting with the staff at the Outreach Center and immediately heads to the kitchen where Sienna is in the process of ombré dyeing a custom order with Kehlani’s latest album taking over the first level from a Bluetooth speaker. 

“Wassup, thickums,” Erik mumbles against her temple where he kisses her with a wet smack of his lips. 

“You home early,” she notes and glances at the digital clock above the stove. “Wasn’t expecting you for a few more hours.” 

“Yeah, it would’ve given you more time to get yo’ side nigga up out my house,” he jokes humorlessly, digging through the pantry and getting himself a Nutrigrain bar. 

“I only say that ‘cus I was hoping you’d get a little more time with your other bitch so you can get on they nerves instead of mine,” Sienna claps back with a smirk earning a half-hearted, sarcastic laugh from Erik as he scarfs the snack down whole. “Actually, I was hoping to get this last head done and start dinner or some’, but since you already home and in my face, I’mma move upstairs and _you_ can start dinner.” 

“There you go volunteering me for shit,” he complains but heads to the refrigerator anyway. “Whatchu want?” 

“What we got?” 

“Ain’t shit in here,” he states, looking into the fridge full of nothing but juice, assorted fruits and vegetables, condiments, and a slice of cheesecake that Sienna definitely forgot about.

“Well, looks like we ordering in,” Sienna says with finality and pauses the music on her phone. “How the meeting go?” 

Erik shrugs tiredly. “Same old shit,” he grunts. “T and them talking about opening up a Center in L.A. and it seemed like a good idea.” 

Erik goes on telling Sienna about his day while she listens intently, nods, and agrees at points where it applies. He sounds excited going on about his ideas and potential projects for the kids at the Center, and it’s truly heartwarming to hear from someone as rough as Erik.

Well, he’s not _that_ rough anymore. That’s what Sienna told Krystal. 

She places a disposable showercap over the mannequin head and discards her red and orange stained plastic gloves, and Erik’s voice goes muffled as she thinks back on her. 

_“If anyone can help me find my N’Jadaka, it’s you.”_ She sounded so desperate. 

“You ever think about your mama?” she blurts out in the middle of his sentence, turning towards Erik just in time to catch his comically caught off-guard expression before he dials it back down to his usual nonchalance. 

“No,” he replies shortly, and she can’t tell if he’s lying or not because if Erik is good at anything, it’s masking his emotions. 

“Never?” she presses, one perfectly waxed eyebrow reaching for her hairline in skepticism. 

“What’s there to think about?” He keeps moving around the kitchen, looking for something else to snack on as if Sienna asked about the weather. 

“She been locked up for a minute,” she reminds him. “How come you never visit her?” 

“What I need to visit her for?” 

Sienna could cry hearing that. “Just to reconnect and get to know her.”

“If I wanted to get to know a crackhead, I’d drive down the street,” he says bluntly, and it strikes something deep in Sienna’s chest. Krystal didn’t mention anything about being on drugs, but from what Sienna could tell when she met her, she was as sane and sober as they come.

Stalking aside, obviously. 

“Well, I just thought it’d be nice if you saw her.”

“Why you bringing her up alluva sudden?” 

Sienna exhales. “I don’t know.”

Erik pulls himself from out of the refrigerator to look at her. “You don’t know.” 

She shrugs. “Was just thinking about how sad it is that you ain’t seen each other in twenty-two years, that’s all.” 

He cocks his head to the side and crosses his arms over his chest. It’s his defensive stance. 

“How you know that?” 

“Know what?” 

Erik turns his head upright to stare straight at her. “I ain’t never told you how long it’s been since I seen her.”

“I figured the last time you would’ve seen her was before your dad passed, E.” She attempts to sound nonchalant but her voice shakes on its way out of her dry mouth—she’s a terrible liar. 

“You figured,” he repeats with a chuckle. “Baby, what’s going on?” 

“Whatchu mean?” 

“You suspicious as hell.”

“I’m not!” she exclaims and it’s her turn to cross her arms. 

“You being weird asking me all these questions.” 

“It’s not weird. I just wanted to talk about your mother.” 

“Why?” 

It takes Sienna too long to answer, so his stare intensifies and she hates when he uses those damn eyes to break down and expose the rawest form of her emotions. Sienna could lie to her parents easier than she can Erik.

She inhales with a shaky breath and lets her arms fall to her sides. “Uh, when I was out the other day, this lady approached me,” she begins, absently cleaning up her hair supplies with the side of her face to Erik to reduce how open she feels under his gaze. “She was telling me about how she just got out of prison and was looking for a way to reach her child ‘cus they been outta touch for so long. It hurt to hear that shit ‘cus she seem like her life _really_ depended on seeing them again, you know what I’m saying?” 

“So, that got you all sentimental and thinking about my mom or some shit?”

Sienna takes a minute to gather her thoughts in a way that won’t make her tear up. “She said she knew about me,” she continues, avoiding Erik’s narrowed glare. “She said she needs my help seeing her son again because I’m the only one who can, and that it’d mean everything to her if I did, so I am.”

Erik doesn’t say anything for a minute as he processes what she said. The only signs showing he understands is a slight twitch in his eye and a grimace when he growls out, “Why?”

“Because you two haven’t seen each other in twenty some years, and it’s sad, baby. Real fucking sad, and I just want to help.”

“Okay, but why?”

Sienna narrows her stare too now. “She’s fresh out, and all she wants is to see you.”

“ _Why_?”

“Nigga, how ‘bout you meet up and ask her yourself?” 

His jaw tenses when he swallows. “You expect me to believe that some random-ass lady came up to you claiming to be my mother, and she tryna see me? Shit don’t even sound real. Somebody just fucking with you, and your sensitive ass letting them.” 

“She knew your real name,” Sienna informs him, frustratedly switching from foot to foot. “She knew your middle name, what elementary school you went to, your birthday—” 

“Anybody could Google that shit,” Erik utters, turning back to dig in the fridge. 

“Her name Krystal,” Sienna says, boring holes into his back with her determined stare. “You ain’t never told me her name, but I know her name Krystal.” 

“So?” 

“You can’t Google that shit. You just _can’t_.” 

Erik ignores her in favor of looking in the freezer. 

Sienna grimaces. “You look and sound just like her. Same dimples and pitbull ears.”

He stays silent, not even showing he’s listening to her anymore. He developed this unhealthy defense mechanism to avoid losing his temper, and Sienna hates it. 

“They called you Daka,” she reminds him softly, making him slam the freezer door shut loudly and twirl on his heels to glare at her as though she said something she shouldn’t have. She doesn’t back down and glares right back, moving her hands to her hips with her chin held high in defiance. 

“The fuck you looking at me like that for?” she asks. “You still think I’m lying?”

“Don’t nobody think you lying.” He shakes his head and rolls his eyes away from her pleading, baby doll eyes. “You just letting some bullshit get in your head and you tryna put that bullshit in my head.”

“How are you this goddamn stubborn?” she groans, reaching over to grab her phone and scroll through her camera roll. “She wouldn’t let me take the picture itself, but here.” She puts her phone in Erik’s face, showing him the picture of him as a baby that Krystal showed her. “That’s _you_.”

A split second of recognition flashes across Erik’s face before his jaw tenses again and he stomps out of the kitchen, muttering under his breath. 

“Baby,” she calls, following close behind on the way upstairs. He shakes his head to himself and never once looks back at her even when they reach their bedroom. “Baby!” she says again, this time impatiently as he ignores her and begins removing his clothes. “You not gon’ say none to me?” 

Erik tosses his jeans and shirt in the direction of the hamper. “What you wanna hear?” he asks irritably. 

“I don’t know, maybe something to move the conversation along. We can’t just _not_ talk about this.” 

“Don’t nobody wanna talk about that bullshit.” 

“It’s _not_ bullshit,” Sienna insists. “Ya mama is out of jail and wants to see you. Why don’t you believe me?” 

Erik rummages through the dresser drawers and slips on a Dri-FIT shirt. “You the type to be letting they emotions sway they actions which is probably why you bothering me with this shit.”

“I’m bothering you,” she repeats in annoyance. “I’m just tryna help—”

“Some random woman,” he finishes for her and goes in the walk-in closet for track pants. “For what?” 

Sienna takes a seat at the edge of the bed with her arms folded. “This random woman is _your mother,_ babe.” 

“Yeah, that’s what she told you,” he argues from the deepest part of the closet. 

“Because she _is_.”

“Okay, so what that gotta do with me?”

“ _Erik_.”

She can’t see him, but she knows him well enough to know he’s probably shrugging his large shoulders nonchalantly. She predicted he would be defiant, so she has to pull out the big guns. 

“They called you Daka, right?” she says again. “That’s what she told me.”

Erik doesn’t respond. That answers her question. 

“She knows about Wakanda, too,” Sienna continues. “She knows about T’Chaka, your cousins, and all this other shit about you and your father.”

Silence remains on his end, so she goes on. 

“She said something about N’Jobu being mad at her over something, and I guess that’s why you acting like this? Whatever it is, E, he’s forgiven her, and he might want you to do the same.”

“I’m a grown man,” he reminds her. “I’m not doing shit _I_ don’t wanna do. You lucky I’m even entertaining this buffoonery ‘cus yo’ sensitive ass talking to ghosts and shit.” 

“You one to talk about somebody being sensitive,” she grumbles loud enough for him to hear. 

He emerges from the closet in full gym gear, adjusting his earphones in his ears, and never breaking eye contact with Sienna. She stares right back just as defiantly. The feigned calmness is evident in his stance, and his dark and dangerous eyes tell Sienna she hit him in the softest of spots. They rarely ever discuss N’Jobu, and when they do, the topic is changed before Sienna can get curious. 

“Despite how much of a dickhead you are,” she starts, uncrossing her arms to extend them behind her with her palms flat against the mattress. “She wants to meet you. You won’t say it, but deep down you wanna meet her, too. In fact, I think you have to.” 

“I don’t have to do shit but stay black and die,” he replies with finality, and the way he looks off with his jaw still tensed and heads to the door tells Sienna that this conversation is over. 

_This_ conversation is over. 

  
  
  
  


Later that night when Erik gets home from the gym, Sienna occupies the bathroom, putting the finishing touches on her last order of the night.

“Hey, baby, how was the gym?” she asks upon seeing him and sets the flat iron on the sink counter. 

He immediately strips out of his sweaty attire and tosses the garments in the hamper before catching her by surprise and lifting her right off her feet in a quick swoop. 

Sienna shrieks, wrapping her arms around Erik’s head for leverage. “Boy, put me down!” she giggles and then yelps when his palm smacks her backside. “What are you doing?” 

“Gym was a’ight,” he says, carrying her over to the spacious shower and turning the knob on the faucet, hot water hitting the marble tile. “Doing all that lifting and shit got a nigga dick hard and I come home to see yo’ cute ugly ass working too much, so I’m finna get in them guts right quick.” 

“You so fucking goofy!” 

“You think I’m joking.” 

She squeals when he sets her on her feet and immediately wraps a large hand around her neck. The water splashes and runs over their bodies, soaking Sienna’s clothes and making them cling to her skin. She’s too entranced by Erik’s fingers massaging her throat gingerly with her head tilted upward, forcing their eyes to meet as he stares through her.

“Do I look like I’m joking?” he gruffs barely above a whisper, squeezing her neck ever so slightly to wipe the awestruck grin and googly-eyed look off of Sienna’s face. It falters for a second, but comes right back when she looks deep into Erik’s lust filled gaze. 

“No,” she giggles, snaking her own hands around Erik’s, encouraging his grip. 

“No, what?” 

“No, Erik.” 

“Then why you looking at me like I told a goddamn joke?” 

Her stomach flutters. “You make me happy and shit.” 

“You don’t take shit serious, but I’mma put your goofy ass in check.” 

“Oh, is you?” 

“Yeah, baby girl, I am,” he whispers and begins pecking his big lips along her jaw with butterfly kisses that feel like what _I love you_ sounds like. His tongue swirls around her earlobe and involuntarily, her knees buckle and she can’t help letting out a loud hybrid of a chuckle and a moan. 

“You still think this shit funny,” he says right into her ear, pressing her against the shower wall with no room to break free between that and his naked body. 

She shakes her head. “You know I’m ticklish.”

He resumes kissing and sucking on the side of her face, holding her against him with one hand while the other snakes between her legs to massage her clothed center. Her shorts act as a useless barrier between him and her sex before the moment he applies pressure with his middle and index finger, another moan escapes from between her lips and into his ear. 

“Yeah, you not laughing now, huh?”

“Boy, shut up,” she pretends to complain and guides his hands into her shorts to touch her at the source. “ _Damn_.” 

“You wet as a bitch,” he comments, pulling his face from hers to look down at his hand in her shorts. 

“No, shit. We in the shower.” 

“Get smart again,” he warns her, but continues massaging her clit anyway. 

She doesn’t have the strength to retaliate because he inserts two fingers past the lips and deep inside of her. His thumb switches to rubbing her sensitive bud in sensual circles in succession to how smoothly his fingers brush in and out of her. 

“Fuck, baby,” she exhales, shutting her eyes and using her other hand to grab the wrist resting on the band of her shorts. 

“Feel good?”

She swallows sharply and nods up at him, never breaking eye contact. “Yes,” she squeaks. 

“Yes, what?” 

The middle of her eyebrows lift helplessly, and the doe-eyed stare partnered with the sweet way she responds, “Yes, Erik” does something to him. 

Her shoulder-length blowout is already coiling to its natural state from the pressure of the water. He removes his hand from around her neck to fist her drenched hair sticking to her shoulders and back, and she practically melts at the forcefulness of the action. She leans into his touch with a satisfied whine. 

“Fuck, baby,” she moans, shutting her eyes again and canting her hips in a way to get his fingers pressing a particularly special spot inside of her. 

Her perky, large breasts adorned by two erect brown nipples poke and bounce with Erik’s movement under the transparent white of her wet shirt. Her long, meaty legs quiver under the effects of his long fingers making work of her pussy, and just the sight of her responding so actively to him has him hard against her hip. 

“You want this dick, don’tchu?”

Sienna nods, body thrumming with her eyes squeezed shut as her mouth releases breathless gasp after gasp on the verge of creaming all over Erik’s fingers. Her free hand finds its way to stroke the full length of Erik’s dick, making him groan aloud at the softness of her hands.

Erik frees Sienna’s hair to yank her heavy shorts down just enough to expose her lower half.

“Turn around,” he commands, removing his hands from between her squishy thighs. She does as she’s told, swaying her hips back and forth playfully. He spanks both cheeks twice just to watch the fat jiggle. 

She makes a happy sound and sways her hips more. 

“Goofy,” he mutters fondly as her fists her hair again, emitting a gasp of surprised pleasure out of her. “Still laughing and shit.” 

He presses close behind her to lick and bite on the exposed bits of her neck he can reach with his dick aligned at her entrance. His pre-ejaculate covered tip traces the lips and outer edges of her aroused center teasingly slow so much that Sienna outright whines and impatiently eases against him in hopes that it’ll slip in. 

“Ooh, shit,” he hisses upon sliding in all at once, the warmth of her pussy momentarily catching him off guard. Sienna gives herself a moment to breathe while her walls flutter around the girth of him as their bodies adjust to one another.

“I sometimes be wondering to myself how I got the best pussy in Cali,” he murmurs right into her ear as he crowds behind her and the hand fisting her hair finds a home around her neck again to bring their bodies together with not so much as an inch of space between them. “ _My_ pussy.” 

Sienna’s heart pounds loudly in her ears as her skin prickles with the sensation of each raised scar on Erik’s chest against her back. “ _Your_ pussy,” she reiterates and scratches long, mint green nails against his bumpy arms. 

He bucks his hips once and water splashes onto the floor loudly. She yells out with a growing smile for the ceiling when she tilts her head upward, creating a devilish arch down her spine. He experimentally slides in and out at an excruciatingly slow place a few more times just to tease her, but she moans aloud and reaches behind to grip his forearms. 

“Faster, baby,” she slurs out, trying her hardest to throw herself back onto him, but the leverage he’s got around her neck ceases her movements with the quickness. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” he exhales under his breath when he complies with her request and increases his pace. 

His deep strokes remain consistent in speed and vigor, making Sienna moan to the high ceiling of the bathroom and dig her nails into Erik’s skin. The clapping sound of their skins’ rapid contact echoes off the walls in a symphony of ecstasy. 

“You like that, huh, baby girl?” Erik grunts, hunching over to talk his shit right against the shell of her ear before licking around her piercing. “Huh?” he demands, using his free hand to sneak between her legs and massage her clit.

A rush of electricity surges up Sienna’s curved spine from the touch, making her jerk on Erik’s fingers in a heated humping motion. 

“ _I_ _like it_.” Each syllable of her wanton whine is elongated and high pitched as she squeezes her thighs together against the friction of Erik’s dick and fingers driving her crazy. “Don’t stop, baby.”

In this moment, Erik is positive he’s not going to put her in the various other positions he had planned due to how damn good this one feels. Pulling out definitely isn’t an option, so he does as he’s told and doesn’t stop thrusting in and out of her. Her folds unintentionally suction around him, creating a slight stutter in his movements at the sudden pressure. He gasps into Sienna’s ear and groans his appreciation. 

“You gripping a nigga like you like me or something,” he teases, releasing his hold around her neck to wrap an arm around her thick middle. “You like it, Princess?” he asks again and positions his thrusts to hit that spot that gets her eyes rolling back until nothing but white shows.

That and the use of her favorite nickname gets her whimpering and losing balance despite the vice grip Erik’s got around her jiggling torso. 

“I like it, baby…” 

“You like it?” Erik growls when he buries his face against Sienna’s nape. “Or you love it?” 

“Shit, I _love_ it—”

“You love it, _what_?”

“I love it, Daddy!” she cries out and brands crescent shaped dents in Erik’s skin with how deep her nails dig into him. “ _I’m finna come_.” 

He keeps his hips aligned with hers just the way they are, careful to not lose the rhythm that got her here even when his own release festers at the pit of his stomach and creeps to his groin. He hisses, holding off going crazy in the warm depths of this woman—because lord knows he would—when her walls grip him over and over, signally her release. 

“Shit, I’mma come, E,” she warns him, followed by a string of unintelligible babbling of words meant to beg him not to stop. “ _Baby…_ ” 

“ _Shhh_ ,” he hushes her, pecking the back of her neck. “I got you, baby girl.” 

Just when it’s almost too much for him to hold off any longer, the waves of an orgasm start at her clit and spread like fire over gasoline throughout her already shaking frame. She gasps and shivers through the waves of her release, barely articulating half-hearted sentiments of how much she loves Erik and that she’s coming. 

“There you go, Princess,” he whispers under her ramblings, gradually slowing his fingers to a stop when she whines from overstimulation. Her cheeks flush at his own set of moans as he continues pumping in and out of her at a pace that will get him to where she was. 

“Fuck, girl,” he bites, lips at her ear while his hand slaps a cheek every other stroke. His breath comes out in rapid pants in between vulgar appreciation of how tight she is or how he’s about to come. 

“Yes, Daddy,” she encourages and tilts her head back to entrance him with her lust-filled glare. “Fuck, baby…”

His gritted teeth, tight lips, and tense muscles tell that he’s almost there, so Sienna bats her eyelashes up at him in that cute way that gets his dick hard for no reason. He’s a fool for it, and his heart thumps harder in his chest at the sight of her. 

“Shit feels so good, baby...” she tells him, lips puckered for a kiss but only able to arch back enough to peck the bald patch on his beard. “Oh, my god… _wait…_ shit…”

His strokes turn short, precise, and even sloppy in tempo. Without realizing, another orgasm sneaks its way through Sienna. Her arousal gushes between them and down their legs, and she whimpers at the sudden and tiny burst of pleasure. 

“ _Baby_ ,” she chirrs, oversensitivity trembling through every one of her nerves. “ _Oh my god_ …” 

“Yeah, that’s it,” he grumbles, nestling his face in her neck, his vision obscured by his dreadlocks falling in his face. Her head falls back onto his shoulder. “This all you, baby girl.”

“Nut in me,” she pleads. “Please.” 

Never one to deny Sienna of anything, Erik lets himself go in a slew of curses and debauched attempts to tell her how good she feels. Through the euphoria building and then ebbing in a matter of seconds, Erik pauses to ejaculate deep within her warm, wet, and pink hole. Erik’s grip around her waist tightens and releases in tandem with his hips’ miniature strokes milking himself until the sensation wears off. She understands the sentiments through the stuttering and loud gasps, and takes pride in how his dick twitches from the aftershocks of his orgasm. 

They stand there with just the water hitting the shower floor and their synchronized, heavy breathing to fill the silence. He remains inside her, head dipped low in her neck with his hands squeezing her little pouch of fat every now and then. 

Sienna grins to herself and places her hands over his. “I ain’t take my birth control pill,” she mumbles. 

“Hmm?” he hums, muffled. 

“I said, I ain’t take my birth control pill today,” she repeats, holding in a laugh. 

The immediate tightening of Erik’s muscles around her and the sharp way his breath stops are comedic in its own right. He pulls himself out of and away from her, pulling her by the arm so she faces him. The mischievous glint in her eye and failed attempt to keep her lips in a straight line turn his concern into annoyance. 

“You play too much,” he says, rolling his eyes and reaching past her to grab his exfoliating washcloth and soap from its dish.

“N’Jadaddy has a cute lil’ ring to it.” 

“You gon’ wash with me or just be irritating?” he asks, lathering up the cloth. 

“Dadmonger is good too.” 

“So, be irritating it is.” 

He scrubs over his chest, white suds and water weaving around his keloids on their way down to his waist. She takes a second to look at him, experiencing one of those quiet moments in his presence where she comes to terms with just how much she loves him. 

And boy, does she love him. _A lot_.

She swipes a hand through her curls. “You lucky wash day tomorrow or else I would’ve fucked you up for getting my hair wet,” she deflects to avoid getting in her feelings about him and Krystal.

“Yeah, a’ight,” he tuts. “You eat yet?” 

“I was waiting on you.” 

“I’ma get us something when I get out.” 

“Bet,” she says and bumps his shoulder with hers playfully on the way out the shower, earning herself a slap on the ass. 

Erik gets Sienna tacos and she eats until she’s stuffed. Nothing can get her to sleep quicker than being dicked down and then fed. Or fed and then dicked down. It doesn’t matter because now she’s content without complaint for the time being. 

Later that night with her skin care and hair routine out of the way and on the verge of sleep, she gets comfortable on her side of the king-sized bed. Erik’s attention switches back and forth between the basketball highlights on the wall-mounted flatscreen and his phone. Instinctively, he lifts his arm to loop around Sienna as she cuddles up close and lays her head on his chest. 

They lay there in comfortable quietness, the loud commentators on TV somewhat of a lullaby to Sienna at this point. She’s right on the edge of slumber when something suddenly occurs to her. 

“Don’t think just ‘cus you gave me Daddy dick and fed me that I’mma get off yo’ neck about this Krystal shit,” she murmurs with an exhale. She’s out like a light before Erik can even respond. 

♡

Sienna is true to her word. 

For the next couple of weeks, she doesn’t let up about the situation with Krystal. 

To say it’s getting on Erik’s last nerve is an understatement. He’s sure she won’t mention it again if he tells her to stop, but even then, she’s stubborn. As the queen of getting her way, she’s known for never letting shit go. 

He’s also sure he’s a sucker for falling for the same caring characteristics that now annoy him. He doesn't know _why_ Sienna cares so much or even puts in effort to make Erik come around to seeing his mother. What is she going to gain from it? _Why does she care?_ Why can’t she be a ruthless bitch who only gives a fuck about herself? If she’s anything like that, _no_ , Erik won’t fuck with her but _damn_ , does he need that now.

He just had to get with the girl with a huge heart and stubbornness to match. 

He’s just as stubborn as she is, so it baffles him that she hasn’t dropped it. If he says no once, it’s a no forever. 

The thing is, Erik didn’t say no. He never outright said he didn’t want to meet this woman. Every time Sienna brings it up, he brushes it off nonchalantly, never giving a set answer or even a reaction. It’s because he doesn’t know if he wants to say no. He’s skeptical, but he can’t say he’s not curious. Even with his curiosity, he goes day by day blocking out Sienna’s reasoning and pretending he never saw that picture. 

His apprehension and her persistence have made for an interesting couple of weeks. He can’t tell if she’s actually mad at him or not, and usually he wouldn’t think too much into it. 

However, today is different. 

The energy in the house is off, and Erik senses it the second he enters.

Sienna stands at the stove, watching chicken breasts fry in a skillet with her hands on her hips like she dared the bird to get up and walk away. The smell wafting through the lower level leads him right to her.

“Hey, baby.” He kisses the crown of her head.

“Hi, E,” she says boredly and moves slowly to flip the breasts onto their uncooked side with a pair of metal tongs, dodging sizzling oil as it flies out of the skillet. 

“Damn, just _E_ ? Not _baby_? Baby boy? Boo? Daddy?” His face scrunches up.

“I call you E all the time.” 

“Yeah, it’s yo’ tone, though,” he says and peeks over her shoulder into the pan. “Whatchu making with that?” 

“Waffles.” 

“How was your day?” 

“Fine.” 

“Whatchu do?”

“Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” 

“Not a damn thing.” 

“So, you just sat up in the house all day, and didn’t do shit?”

“That’s what I said.”

Erik sucks his teeth, shaking his head on the way out of the kitchen. “Nobody care about yo’ little attitude, so you might as well drop it.”

“You not caring about anything? _Shocker_.” She doesn’t bother being slick by saying it under her breath.

He stops in his tracks and then swerves on his heels to stare at the sleek, black curtain of bone-straight hair that is the back of her head. 

“You got some’ you wanna get off yo’ chest?” he demands, crossing his arms as he leans against the counter adjacent to the stove.

Sienna scoffs and shakes her head. “Not like you gon’ give a fuck.” 

“The fuck that mean?”

“It means what I said.” 

“Whatchu saying then?”

Sienna continues cooking as though he hasn’t even come home. She doesn’t spare him a glance when she reaches across him to get a plate from the cupboard. 

“I’m not gon’ stand here and beg you to talk to me,” he tells her.

“And, yet you still here.” 

Fed up, Erik nudges himself between the stove and her, flicking the knobs off quickly and taking the plate from her hands to set it on the counter. He glares down at her expectantly for a millisecond before he gets his first look at her red-rimmed eyes, flushed nose, and tear-stained cheeks. 

His expression automatically softens. “What’s wrong?”

“I’m cool, E. Move.” 

He cocks his head. “What I tell you about that crying shit?” 

“Bitches cry sometimes.” 

“Yeah, a’ight, so why are you?” 

“Don’t worry about it,” she tells him softly and half-heartedly jogs him from in front of the stove, but he doesn’t budge. His resistance frustrates her with unchanneled aggression, so she tries again. He goes nowhere, and for the first time in forever, she hates that he’s so big and his presence takes up every inch in every room of their house.

Agitated, she turns her face away to avoid him seeing the tears glistening in her eyes. She knows he hates when she gets emotional to the point of crying, and she’d rather save herself a speech. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he repeats with a quirked smirk. “Trust me, I won’t. Them tears not fazing me.” 

“Then why you here?” 

“I like pissing you off.”

She can’t help actually chuckling at that and before she knows it, the calloused pads of his thumbs wipe away tears streaming down her face. Erik is rarely ever this gentle on purpose, so she revels in it for a second before remembering why she became upset in the first place. 

The shift is evident on her face. Erik doesn’t ask again, but the look on his face does it for him. 

“I been talking to Krystal,” she admits after a moment of calm between them. “She not letting up about seeing you.”

“And?”

Sienna pulls away from him to cross her arms and idly pace around the kitchen. “I know you tired of me bugging you with it. Lord knows why you don’t wanna fuck with this woman, but it’s not my place to tell you to get over it, so I won’t.” 

That’s… _unexpected_. 

“I been tryna force it, completely forgetting you a nigga who don’t do shit he don’t want to, so I’ma just let it be,” she says, shrugging in what could be interpreted as defeat. “We talked and we think if you ever wanted to, you’d come to her on your own terms. Whenever or _if_ ever that may be. She willing to wait.”

Erik shifts between each foot and waits for the catch. Sienna regards him with those damn baby doll eyes, and he braces himself. 

“We going up to the farmers’ market on Saturday,” she invites. “You’re welcome to join us.” 

Erik considers it and presses his lips together in contemplation. “Why you crying?”

She shakes her head and wipes her face. “I just think about how close I am with my mom and get sad when other people don’t get to experience that kinda thing.” 

“Not everybody need that, though.” 

Sienna nods and gestures to him. “Clearly.” 

“I’m really just tryna figure out why you so pressed about this. Fo’real, why do you care?” 

“Why _don’t_ you care?” she insists, clapping her fist into her palm. “How are you so detached from this? This is _your mother_ , Erik. She’s out of jail. She’s alive. She wants to see _you,_ and you’re denying her of that for what? Huh? What old wound are you afraid of opening?” 

He takes in everything she says, scratching his beard. “It’s Erik now,” he notes. “You must be hella mad.” 

It looks could kill, Erik would be a dead man.

Sienna rolls her eyes upward and makes her way back over to the stove, using all her strength to get Erik out of her way. He allows himself to be moved this time. 

They both end the conversation with neither of their questions answered.

  
  
  
  


Erik’s consideration about the farmers’ market turns to uncertainty over the course of a night. Something about the way Sienna dug into him stuck something deep. 

That night as he watches her sleep, something dawns on him.

“You mad at me,” he realizes. 

Obviously, she doesn’t respond. 

He props himself up on his side and reaches his index finger out to flick her fat bottom lip.

“Yo.” 

She exhales irritably. 

“Yo, wake up, bruh,” he says, flicking her lip again only to have his finger swatted with her sharp, coffin-shaped claws. 

“Fuck you want?” she growls, pushing him away and turning over. “And who you think you calling ‘ _bruh_ ’, like I’m one of your bum-ass homeboys?” 

“So, you _are_ mad.” 

“Whatchu want, E? I’m tryna sleep.” 

“I don’t like you being mad at me.” 

Sienna’s eyes open to the dark of their bedroom, but she doesn’t turn to look at him. “Why you think I’m mad at you?” 

He doesn’t say anything, but she can feel him shrug. “About this shit with Krystal,” he guesses.

“I’m not mad,” she corrects him and shuts her eyes. “Just… confused and frustrated.”

“I’m frustrating you.” 

“Well, you not making the shit easy,” she replies honestly. 

Erik thinks about that for a brief moment. “When have I ever?” he teases. 

Sienna scoffs weakly. “You wouldn’t be you if you did.” 

She falls asleep before he can defend himself. 

He can’t, though. They both know she’s right.

♡

In the time it takes Saturday to arrive, Erik hoped that a club would contact him with a promo job, some brand would want a deal, or even something spectacular would happen at the Outreach Center. 

He hoped for anything to avoid going to the farmers’ market even if he’s not obligated to take Sienna up on the offer. Guilt isn’t something Erik feels often or ever, but the discomfort sitting in the middle of his chest as he watches Sienna get ready must be something close. 

Sienna’s routine starts at eleven in the morning. Showered with her teeth and face washed, she begins applying her makeup, humming along to the music on the Bluetooth speaker. 

Erik pretends to be busy on his phone the whole time she beats her face with a natural palette, styles a honey-blonde loose wave unit, and scurries around the closet for an outfit. She tries on a few t-shirt and jeans combos, dresses, and even a skirt she hasn’t worn in years. 

She exits the closet clad in white, high-waisted sailor shorts, cognac sandals, and a white, frilly tube top. “Have you seen my clutch?” she asks, spritzing herself with lilac scented body spray. 

Erik nods towards the accessory hanging off the doorknob. “What time you gon’ be home?”

“Uh, I don’t know,” she answers, twiddling her fingers above her jewelry box before plucking out a pair of diamond earrings. “She said she wanted to sightsee a little afterwards, but we’ll see.” 

“So, y’all dating, huh.” 

Sienna snickers, putting the jewelry in her ear. “I guess I have a type.” 

After getting the full look together, she snaps a few pictures in their full-length mirror for Instagram and walks over to the bed. 

“I’ma see you later,” she says, crouching forward to take Erik’s jaw in her hand and pull him in for a sloppy kiss she doesn’t mind smudging her lip gloss for. “Don’t have no bitches up in my house.” 

“Don’t let no niggas talk to you.” 

“Ain’t nobody gon’ be checking for me.” 

He doubts that, but doesn’t say anything else on it. “Have fun.” 

“We will.” Sienna pecks his cheek this time and practically skips to the door. “Love you!”

“Love you,” he mutters backs and then waits until the front door shuts to climb out of bed and start the shower.   
  
  


Curiosity won. 

Guilt definitely won. 

Erik will never admit that to himself let alone anyone else. He’ll also never admit that he changed outfits multiple times in search of one he deemed perfect for meeting his mother. Subconsciously, he’s excited and maybe even giddy about it, but his anxiety sits at an all-time high in the form of sweaty palms and an erratic heartbeat. 

He doesn’t know why he’s doing this, but he knows there’s time to turn the car around and pretend he never entertained the idea. The stubborn side of him wants to sit his ass at home to prove a point to Sienna that he cannot and will not be swayed by his emotions. 

But the eight-year-old in him who replays vague images of a gorgeous woman in an orange jumpsuit behind glass, parenting him through a black jail phone isn’t letting stubbornness win. Not this time. 

Erik exhales, one hand on the wheel while he leans on the other. 

_“What the hell am I doing?”_ he thinks aloud. 

Upon arriving to the farmers’ market, Erik sits in his car observing his surroundings. It’s busy, crowded, and colorful as most Saturdays in Oakland are. People from all walks of life stand around talking, looking over the produce and merchandise merchants under their canopy tents have to offer. Sienna would definitely drag Erik to this, and he’d complain about the heat and walking around.

His jaw unclenches at the thought of her. 

“Dammit,” he mutters to himself and grabs his phone from the center console. He exits the vehicle and locks it on his way into the market. 

Despite his breath being stuck in his throat, Erik manages to navigate through the people and shops, subtly but actively searching for Sienna. He swerves around and dodges anyone in his way to avoid contact and speaking. It feels like he’s walking around for hours until he reaches a natural hair products booth and spots just her smelling and inspecting jars and bottles of products while the elderly merchant talks. 

He hides away a few seconds more to just watch her and assure she’s really alone. It’s easier to say he’s looking out to not run into Krystal if she’s nearby, but he hasn’t seen her face in so long that he wouldn’t recognize her if he did. 

“Aye yo, white shorts!” he calls above the crowd, turning multiple heads including hers. 

Surprise flashes over her expression before she rolls her eyes behind her brown sunglasses with a resistant smile. He saunters over to her with a dip in his hip and stands next to her. 

“I seen you from over there and was thinking you hella bad,” he tells her, eyes trailing her frame as if it’s his first time ever doing so. “Had to come and talk to you, y’feel me, sweetheart? What’s yo’ name?” 

Sienna giggles and idly reads the label on some green hair creme. “I don’t got a name, but I do got a man, sir,” she informs him, playing along. 

“I ain’t ask all that,” he responds. “Probably a lame, anyway. No nigga with sense gon’ let lil’ fine thing like you out the house with all that ass hanging out.” 

She laughs and her cheeks grow hot. “Watch yo’ mouth. My nigga crazy.” 

“That’s fine,” he says. “I don’t mean nothing by it. I’m just tryna be friends. What, he don’t let you have friends?” 

“Nah, he don’t.”

“That’s wild.” He smirks and takes half a step away to admire her. “You fine, though. Lemme get your number so if he ever actin’ up you got options.” 

Sienna shakes her head and jabs him in his chest with her elbow. “Boy, you play too much,” she snickers and picks up another product. 

“Yeah, a’ight, I was just testing you,” he says, putting his arm around her shoulders to bring her towards him. “You need to be meaner, though. 

“You mean enough for the both of us,” she says. “What you doing here, E?”

He shrugs as if the question weren’t valid. “Just to see what this farmers’ market shit about.”

“Mhm,” Sienna hums. “Of all the times I been wanting to go to the farmers’ market and _today_ is the day you show up.” 

Erik’s eyebrow quirks upward. “It’s not that deep,” he insists, but Sienna doesn’t believe him nor does she attempt to appear to believe him. 

There's a brief moment of comfortable silence between them as they sniff products before someone comes up beside Sienna and playfully pinches her side. 

“I leave to go to the bathroom for two minutes and my girl all up under someone else’s arm,” Krystals jokes, eyeing Erik up and down with a smile that barely reaches her eyes.

Sienna jumps at the contact and then instantly grins over at Krystal, dropping her arm from around Erik’s middle to bring her close as if the affection is normal. 

“I’m your girl forever,” Sienna assures her and takes Erik’s hand in her free one. “Babe, Krystal. Krystal, Erik. Or, N’Jadaka. But, uh, you knew that already.” 

The two of them stare each other down, waiting for the other to speak. Sienna glances between them, her heart going a mile a minute when neither of them talk. Erik, as hard as he tries to mask his reaction, looks like he’s seen a ghost while Krystal’s eyes swirl with wonder and a tinge of relief as she takes him in. 

With the woman just a couple of feet away, Erik can see everything Sienna described of him on her down to the dimples and pitbull ears poking under her half-up half-down curls. It’s easy to see why N’Jobu fell for her; she’s gorgeous just the way Erik remembers her being since the last he saw her in a prison visitation room. Her stance is guarded, somewhat behind Sienna, under his inquisitive gaze. 

She’s aged gracefully despite everything, and the longer he stares at her, the more he feels like some confused five-year-old wondering why his mother isn’t coming home. All of a sudden, he’s eight and seeing her for the last time without knowing it’s the last time. N’Jobu is gone, and he’s in an overcrowded foster home with a bunch of other lost black kids who don’t even cry for their parents anymore. 

Erik’s calculated expression turns sour at the memory, and the evident switch in attitude gets Krystal tensing and taking a step away. Her hands finally stop fidgeting—a clear indicator that she wants to reach out and touch him—and her own expression shifts. 

Krystal gives him another once over and then looks him in what can be called the male version of her face. “Wassup?” she asks casually, stepping from behind Sienna to match his confident body language.

Erik scrunches his eyebrows together, trying to figure out if this is a challenge or not. He  _ challenges… _ he’s not  _ challenged _ . He didn’t expect that—to be fair, he didn’t know what to expect but it certainly wasn’t that. 

“Wassup?” he replies just as strongly, puffing his chest out. 

Sienna shakes her head and squeezes Erik’s hand and Krystal’s waist. “You two too much alike, and it’s irritating.” 

Krystal shrugs and squeezes her right back, never tearing her eyes away from her grown son as if to invite him to test her. “Yeah, he been jacking my style for a while now,” she teases with a smirk. 

“Oop.” Sienna looks over at Erik to check his reaction, and he’s visibly shocked at Krystal’s boldness. He supposes he had to get it from  _ somewhere _ .

“Yeah, a’ight,” he says and shakes his head, looking off in the other direction, something he only does when he’s defeated. He’s too much of a real nigga to admit Krystal staring him down twists his stomach in a weirdly familiar way that speaks to his inner child.

“Now, we all gon’ look at each other like we owe each other money or is we shopping?” Krystal asks, stare lingering on Erik just a few seconds more before she directs her attention to the farmers’ market. Sienna nods and complies with letting Krystal take her hand and nonchalantly tugging her out of Erik’s grip. 

He stands there for a moment, watching the two of them walk away and wonders what the hell just happened.   
  


In watching Krystal, Erik learns a lot. She and Sienna have a scary amount of things in common, and it keeps them attached at the hip the entire time they stop at booths and buy products. 

He can’t decide if it’s awkward or not. Rather, he doesn’t know if he feels awkward about this even as it’s happening. Here his mother is just feet in front of him, laughing and giggling and having the best of times with his woman—it’s a scenario out of his wildest dreams. Never in this lifetime did it seems plausible that his past and present would collide in such a way, but they are.

For someone who seemed pressed to see him, Krystal pays him little attention outside of a glance here and there. She waywardly stares when she thinks he’s not paying attention before deciding she’s been looking too long and then goes back to Sienna hopefully. The looks are extensive and focused as if committing Erik’s face to memory, and then they're sad. Erik ignores it even though the intensity of her stares practically burn the side of his face. Although any time she’s distracted, he stares just as long and hard, unable to blink because the reality of the situation is dream-like. 

_ This is his mother. _ It doesn’t seem real, but it is. 

Her mannerisms, lingo, and all around demeanor scream Oakland. He recognizes the special twang she adds to certain words because he uses it himself, totally unaware that he got it from her. She cracks jokes on certain products and people passing by, leaving Sienna in stitches. Erik tuts because there’s no way she’s that funny, but then he remembers how much Krystal used to make N’Jobu laugh even when they’d visit her. Even in her predicament, she’d make light of how nasty the food was, being unable to watch her favorite soap operas, and the lack of privacy. 

Erik doesn’t think he got that from her. If anything, Sienna is the certified clown between them, which explains why she and Krystal get along so well. N’Jobu was somewhat of a playful person himself, but he was nowhere near as hysterical as Krystal on her worst day.

The longer he’s in her presence, the more he notices just how radiant she is. Any unsuspecting person wouldn’t guess she just spent twenty something years in jail while battling a drug addiction. She could model if she wanted to—women would kill for her height, blemish-free brown skin, full head of hair, and unique features. It makes sense as to why N’Jobu fell for her; anybody would. It makes sense as to why Sienna fell for Erik when Krystal gave him the best of her features.

_ This is his mother.  _

He can’t deny she isn’t, especially when images of her putting her hair in rollers at night, cooking him and N’Jobu dinner, and falling asleep in her lap to episodes of  _ Rugrats _ on their red plaid sofa flash in his mind in rapid succession. 

“I know you hear me,” Sienna says, pulling him deep from thought and it’s now that he realizes his eyes have been trained on Krystal the whole time. She looks back at him behind a distracted Sienna looking at the jewelry displayed on the merchant table. 

Krystal’s face is kind and optimistic, waiting for Erik to say something she wants to hear. In a second, he’s a kid again, peering up at her and waiting for her to grab his face to litter his cheek with quick butterfly kisses the way she used to. The more they stare at each other, the more he’s expecting her to do just that and tell him that whether he’s Daka or Erik, he’s everything to her. 

Should he say something? What is there to be said? Would that be letting his guard down?

“Hmm?” he says to Sienna, breaking eye contact first. 

“Which one?” she asks, presenting him with a set of handmade rings on her fingers. He picks one at random and she agrees, wagging her finger in admiration. 

While Sienna pays for the jewelry, Krystal holds onto Sienna’s unoccupied hand and looks at her they way she just had Erik. Sienna returns the gesture and squeezes Krystal’s hand. 

A pang of jealousy hits him right in the middle of the chest as he watches them walk off again without even checking if he’s following. 

It amazes Erik that Sienna taps out after a few rounds of cardio, but shops around for hours without showing signs of slowing down or complaint. It’s even more amazing that he keeps up with the two of them for the sake of just being involved. The light touches, the giggling, and secretive words they exchange leave Erik feeling out of the loop, and he pretends not to care. He even keeps his comments to himself when Sienna continues to buy Krystal things.

This is more about them than him anyway. 

After hours of walking the market, Sienna and Krystal decide they are done right before the sun shifts to set. He follows them to Sienna’s BMW, hands in his jean pockets wishing he was holding Sienna’s. 

Erik blocks out the majority of their conversation as they load their shopping bags into the backseat and he doesn’t snap back into reality until Sienna approaches him. 

“We going to eat,” she tells him. “You welcome to come.” 

“Eat where?”

“Haven’t decided yet. Depends on what Krystal wants.” 

Erik scoffs, not bothering to lower his voice when he says, “What Krystal wants: That’s the theme of the day.” 

“Don’t start,” she mutters with a grimace and gets on her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth. “I’ll be home tonight.” 

Just when Sienna turns to walk away, Erik grabs her by her forearm to pull her back into him. “You not gon’ gimme no weak-ass kiss like I’m a regular nigga.” 

He makes a show of taking her face in his hand and sliding his tongue passed her lips in an intimate and heated kiss. She moans happily at the affection, meeting his lips lap for lap with lust-filled vigor.

She pulls away first, wiping the sides of her mouth from excess saliva even as he playfully nips at the apple of her cheek. 

“C’mon, babe,” she giggles with a smile as wide as the horizon, moving away and putting a hand over his mouth. “Not in front of your mom.”

“You think I care if she see?”

Before Sienna can chide him, Krystal surprises them both and snickers from her spot leaning on the passenger door. 

“Some’ funny?” Erik asks, scrunching his face up and puffing his chest out again in a weak intimidation tactic that does not faze Krystal in the slightest. 

Krystal shakes her head. “Nah, but I’m laughing anyway.” 

“Okay, well, we gon’ go,” Sienna interrupts hastily, backing away from Erik to head to the driver’s side. “Baby, I’mma see you when I get home. Krys, let’s go.”

“I’m tryna laugh too.” Erik takes a step forward. “Wassup?” 

“Nah, boy, you not tryna know wassup.” Krystal brushes him off. “You have a good night, Erik.” 

The dismissal lights a fire right in the center of Erik’s core, and he sneers sideways at her in a way that asks just who does she think she is. Sienna knows that look—many niggas have been on the receiving end and it never ended well. 

“You clearly got some’ to say, so say that shit,” Erik demands. 

Krystal blinks at him boredly and rolls her eyes to the side. “I’m not tryna start none’ with you.” 

Sienna nods in agreement from her spot on the driver’s side. “Yeah, E, let’s just let it go. It’s nothing.” 

“Nah, baby, I’m just tryna figure out what’s so funny, cus she over here chuckling and shit.” Erik points two fingers towards Krystal, and her lack of reaction makes his face hot. 

“You wanna act tough and question me, huh?” Krystal responds, crossing her arms. “Ain’t nobody sweating yo’ lil’ disrespectful ass.” 

Sienna sighs. There’s no way she could’ve thought they’d meet up and everything would be okay. “Okay, let’s calm down—”

“I’m calm,” Krystal insists.

“All that damn laughing all day, and now that I’m tryna get in on the joke, you not ‘bout it?” Erik challenges, and it’s very apparent this runs deeper than just a joke.

“Let it go,” she repeats. “You getting yourself all upset over nothing.” 

“You not gon’ be all up on my girl all day and acting like shit sweet, saying I’m disrespectful. You lucky I even entertained the bullshit.” 

“ _Oh_ ,” she says, feigning surprise, laying the sarcasm on thick. “Lucky me. I have been blessed by the almighty Erik Stevens. How nice.” 

“Yeah, how nice.” 

“Like I said, I’m not sweating you, young man.” 

“You gon’ sweat me if I say so, lady.” 

“Baby,” Sienna warns him, but she goes ignored. 

“Oh, am I? ‘Cus by the looks of it, you sweating me,” she tells him, standing from her lean to stalk towards him. “Since you wanna know wassup, it’s  _ you _ .” 

Sienna rounds the vehicle and steps between them, creating a barrier so they don’t step any close to one another. “Can you two not do this right now?” she whines, putting her hands out to stop either of them from moving forward. 

“Oh, so wassup with me since you know so damn much about me?” Erik demands, advancing towards Krystal without a care who sees or hears.

“You a  _ punk _ ,” she states, pointing an accusing finger in his face. “You ain’t been about shit but hiding behind your girl and mean mugging me like you got a problem with me. If you gon’ be about hating me, do it to my face and not behind my back.” 

“Ain’t nobody even thinking ‘bout you like that to be hating you,” Erik admits, shaking his head even if it’s the farthest thing from the truth. “You ain’t nothing to me.” 

Krystal nods. “Didn’t nobody force you to come, N’Jadaka! If you ain’t come to be cool, why you here? Did you come to get your feelings hurt? ‘Cus I’ll hurt ‘em. Believe that.” 

Sienna shakes her head. “We don’t gotta do this,” she reminds them but again, they ignore her.

”I‘m not no lil’ boy no more,” he tells her. “You think I won’t step to you ‘cus you my moms? I’m a real nigga, and anybody can get it.” 

In the midst of watching the impending doom unfold, Sienna is taken aback by Erik actually acknowledging Krystal as his mother. 

“Step to me then, lil’ nigga! Be about your shit!” Krystal invites, clapping her hands in his face over Sienna’s barrier. “Be a real nigga and tell me what’s good, blood! You mad about me and Sisi? Is that it?” 

Sienna continues shaking her head, queasy at the direction the argument is going. “Krys, c’mon…”

“You mad she’s been there for me, sticking up for yo’ ass whenever I’d ask about you? I ain’t ask you for shit but a conversation, but you act like a bitch out here supposed to be begging on hands and knees to talk to you. You getting mad she been something to me?” 

Erik takes that in and snarls. “You real slick playing with heartstrings and shit. If you were as about it as you say you was, you woulda came to me your damn self, but there you go, copping out of being an actual mother, as usual.” 

Sienna turns on him, glaring hard and desperate for him to be quiet. “Erik!” she gasps. 

Krystal puts her hands up in surrender, shaking her head and backing away. “You know what? You got it. I don’t want no part in what you got going on the way I thought I did.” 

Heat rises to the surface of Erik’s skin. “Oh, so you backing out? What, you gon’ go do some crack and go back to jail? That’s what the fuck you good at, isn’t it?!” he shouts, eyes wild and shifty like a rabid animal as they zoom in on Krystal. “You leaving a nigga  _ again _ ? Huh?!”

“And if I do?!” Krystal exclaims back, any cool she had left diminishing. “I’m not staying nowhere I’m not wanted! You gon’ be sad and boohoo about it? Maybe go on another killing rampage? Try and overthrow a whole goddamn empire ‘cus you got left behind?” 

“ _ Don’t _ talk to him like that,” Sienna says, turning on her now in disgust, but Erik’s already revved up and fully ready for a good fight. 

“You don’t know shit about me!” he growls, trying to get past Sienna, but she doesn't allow it. “You think I won’t turn you into one of these scars, you got me hella fucked up! I mean that!” 

“You not scaring nobody,  _ Killmonger, _ ” Krystal emphasizes, stomping towards him with a fierceness overtaking her aura like a second skin. “That shit don’t work where I been! I seen roaches scarier than yo’ ass. You think somebody supposed to be shook about some scars? Do what I did for twenty-seven years, and see if anybody gon’ give a fuck about that bullshit!” 

“Watch where the fuck you walk,” he threatens, teeth bared, gold fangs glistening dangerously. “I be sure to make your life hard next time I see you. Stay yo’ ass away from me and my girl or I’m rocking your shit.”

“So rock it,” Krystal invites nonchalantly. “Who you putting the show on for? Jobu not here.” 

His irises seem to flash red then back to brown, and Sienna can’t take how scary he is when he’s like this. Her eyes flood with tears, holding him back with her hands wrapped around his forearms. 

“E, baby, calm down,” she pleads.

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down,” he exclaims and jerks from Sienna’s grip, distancing himself between the two women. “Talk to yo’ new bestie before I do some’ that’s gon’ send me to jail.” 

“You ain’t gon do nothing to nobody, nigga. If you were, you woulda done it already,” Krystal taunts. 

“Erik,” Sienna tries again, but Erik isn’t having it. 

“Cuh, look I’m hella serious,” he warns. “Stay away from mines and keep my father name out yo’ mouth.”

“You wanna be like Jobu so bad, but it’s not gon’ happen,” she tells him calmly. “No matter how many people you kill or how much you think you’re liberating your people. It doesn’t work that way, Daka.” 

That nickname triggers a slew of emotions and before Erik can react, Sienna shakes her head at Krystal with her hands up in defense. “Krystal, don’t! Please don’t. Just let it go, please,” she begs, doing what she can to hold off Erik from advancing any further to the other woman. “He gets it. Just please  _ don’t _ .” 

“Check your nigga, Sisi,” Krystal advises, pointing a feisty finger at her son. 

“Check who? Who she gonna check?” 

“You, lil’ boy!” 

The two of them bark back and forth at the top of their lungs, drawing unneeded attention to the parking lot. Sienna wishes she could say she’s surprised but she’s not. It only makes perfect sense that Erik has met his match with the same person he got everything from. She is truly Booboo the fucking Fool for thinking this would work out. A deep part of her wonders if their star signs have anything to do with it, but she doesn’t ponder on it long before she’s thrown for a loop.

Erik practically foams at the mouth with rage glowing in the brown of his erratic eyes when he barks out the most aggressive “ _ Fuck you, bitch!” _ Sienna has ever heard, shaking her and Krystal to their cores.

Sienna’s body tenses and she turns to glare at him like he directed it at her, but before she can scold him, Krystal’s hand flies across his face in what is the hardest slap Sienna has ever witnessed. She gasps, hands hovering over her mouth in shock as he jerks back to calculate what just happened. 

After half a second of realization, Erik lunges in Krystal’s direction, calling her out of her name with every other breath and Krystal retaliates by getting in a fighting stance. Using all her might, Sienna pushes Erik away enough to have him stumbling backwards.

“Fucking  _ enough _ !” Sienna exclaims. “Have you niggas lost your goddamn minds?” 

She spins to face Krystal, a fire of its own overthrowing the sadness within her. “Do  _ not  _ put your hands on him!” she warns her and instant regret floods Krystal’s expression. “I  _ don’t _ give a fuck that you his mother.” 

Sienna swirls to look at a bewildered Erik. “I’ma see you when I get home,” she tells him viciously, twisting his face up in further confusion. 

“The fuck you leaving with that bitch for?” he asks, and Sienna doesn’t bother sounding nice when she redirects her frustrations. 

“Yo, E, shut the fuck up,” she demands bluntly, with a flat hand out to halt him. “I know it’s gonna be hard because you think everyone needs to hear what the fuck you have to say, but we don’t. Just be quiet some goddamn time, and I promise the sun will still shine and the Earth will still revolve.” 

Usually, Erik would have a rebuttal ready telling anybody who talked to him like that about themselves, but the severity of the situation dawns on him. Sienna rarely ever gets to  _ that  _ level of anger to where she cusses Erik out. 

Without another word, Sienna and Krystal get into her car, back out, and zoom off, leaving Erik there with the side of his face stinging. 

♡

Erik makes it home before Sienna does. He changes into lounge clothes and then checks his face in the bathroom mirror to see the damage. Krystal has a hell of a hand, leaving the left side of his face red with irritation and stinging when he expresses anything above a grimace. 

“Fuck,” he winces, replaying the day in his head. “ _ Fuck _ .”

To say that nothing went down the way he planned is an understatement. 

To be fair, he didn’t have much of a plan anyway, but he knows he didn’t want to get slapped. Then again, who does? He especially wasn’t trying to have Sienna yell at him the way she did. That was bold of her, and it stunned him in the same way it turns him on. 

He’s barely settled in with his thoughts when the front door opens and shuts. Sienna is up the stairs and in their room just in time for Erik to exit the bathroom and meet her halfway. She breezes by him to the closet without so much as a glance in his direction. 

“So, you not talking?” he scuffs, leaning on the closet door threshold as he watches her put her new stuff away. “You mad at me?”

She exhales tiredly and empties her shopping bags all at once on the closet island. “I’m not mad,” she finally says, focusing on her purchases to avoid him seeing the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “I’m disappointed. Disappointed, but not surprised. ”

He opens his mouth to retaliate but pauses when he sees her crestfallen expression. Her glossy bottom lip pokes out, quivering past a frown. He softens just enough to mind his tone when he speaks. 

“I don’t need no lecture.”

“Good, ‘cus I’m not gon’ give you one,” she tells him. “I don’t have nothing to say to you.” 

“The fuck you got an attitude with me for?” 

Sienna ignores him in favor of making room in her jewelry storage for her new pieces. His gaze zeroes in on her reflection in the mirror in front of her, and she’s seconds away from breaking down if her bottom lip, upturned eyebrows, and reddening eyes are anything to go by.

“Baby,” he calls softly, advancing towards her. She acts as though he never spoke and makes her way around the closet, dodging his touches and turning away when he looks at her in that criminally curious way that reminds her of a kitten. “Why you not talking to me?” he asks, arms caging her against the wall when he finds the opportunity to corner her. “Talk to me, lil’ girl.” 

Unable to look anywhere else but at him, Sienna reluctantly does so and gets her first look at his cheek. She winces at it, unable to contain the urge to rub it. He dials back his reaction when her nails lightly scratch along the bruise, but she catches it anyway and puts her hands back at her side.

“ _ Fuck _ , E,” she groans. “Your face.” 

His tongue presses the inside of his cheek. “Don’t worry ‘bout it,” he says, shaking his head.

They stare at each other for a moment. Erik breaks it first—he’s never been able to stand tall under Sienna’s wide-eyed goggle of amazement. He especially can’t understand why she always has to look at him like he’s breaking her heart. 

He exhales and drops his arms to free her, but instead of moving away, she continues to stand there. After another moment, she shakes her head with a scoff. 

“Why you have to call that woman out her name?” she asks. 

Erik scowls down at her as if to say,  _ You f’real?  _

Her face doesn’t change as if to say,  _ Do I look like I’m playing? _

“You said you wasn’t gon’ lecture me, and you wanna question me about some dumb shit.” 

“Nah, nigga, you wanted to talk,” she reminds him, following close behind and then ducking in front of him when he tries to escape. “Why you running?” 

“Fuck out my way.” 

She crosses her arms defiantly. “Or what? You gon’ call me out my name too?”

“I’m not dealing with you right now,” he decides out loud and nudges passed her to the bedroom, but she stays on him. 

“She  _ shouldn’t  _ have put her hands on you and trust me, I went off on her about that, so don’t think I’m just getting in yo’ ass,” she starts and plops onto the unmade bed. “ _ But _ you ain’t have to call her a bitch. In fact, you could’ve left it at _ fuck you _ , and the point would’ve gotten across.” 

“But I didn’t. Now what?” 

“I’m just saying, E—”

“That she should be allowed to throw some old shit in my face, but I’m in the wrong for bringing up her fuckery?” he asks rhetorically. “Let’s discuss the contradiction!”

“I get that, but it still wasn’t right! She’s your mother.” 

Erik rolls his eyes back and waves her off. “Why am I’m even talking to you when you gon’ cap for her regardless?” 

“I’m not capping for nobody,” she insists. “I’m just tryna find out how y’all went from zero to a hunnid so damn quick. Like, why did it have to escalate to all that? There was so many points in the conversation where you could’ve let it go, so why didn’t you?”

“So, you just gon’ forget the part where she was disrespecting me,” Erik concludes sarcastically, standing above her. “You think I was on one for nothing. She was foul as fuck to me first, but when I retaliate and get the taste slapped out my mouth, I’m wrong? Bet.” 

“You shouldn’t have called her a bitch.” Sienna repeats, shaking her head. “Hurt people tend to hurt people, okay?” 

“Yo, why you defending her?” he wonders incredulously, hunching his shoulders up tight. 

“I’m not defending her, E, I’m just tryna get you understand. You’re hurt, so you hurt her. She hurt so she hurt you back. You see how fucked up this is, don’tchu?” she tries, but Erik shakes his head again, refusing to take anything else she says seriously. 

“I ain’t did shit to that woman.”

“You really don’t see how you did wrong here, do you?” 

Erik put his hands up in mock defense, pacing the room like he’s looking to escape even further. “Oh, of course _ I’m  _ wrong. I’m always the one in the wrong and Sienna  _ always  _ right.” 

Sienna wishes she could be surprised at how he’s taking this, but she’s not. “ _ Both _ you niggas in the wrong, and you know that,” she continues, idly removing her jewelry and setting the pieces on the mattress. “She shouldn’t have hit you, baby, but you know why it happened, so quit playing dumb like you don’t. Your mouth wrote a check yo’ face couldn’t cash.” 

“I could’ve knocked her ass out if you wasn’t in the way,” he growls to himself, but she hears it anyway. 

“Right, ‘cus that would’ve made the situation even better.” 

Erik knows she’s right, but he’s too in his feelings to admit it. “It don’t even matter. You supposed to be on my side regardless.” 

“Just ‘cus I’m tryna get you to see her side of it doesn’t mean I’m not riding for you,” Sienna corrects him. “And I’m not taking sides, especially when both of you did each other dirty. There was no reason for you to bring up all that shit about her on drugs and being in jail. I’m sure if she could change anything, she would, but that shouldn’t be used against her.” 

“She wanna sit there and talk about what I did about getting left behind, when it’s her fault anyway,” he mumbles to himself and pulls a face at the air. “The fuck right she got speaking on me when she don’t even know me?” 

“It was wrong of her to judge, but she would like to,” Sienna reminds him softly. “You wanna know her, too. That’s why you even came today, isn’t it?” 

Erik doesn’t say anything but instead stops his pacing to make another face at the wall, indirectly answering her question. 

“As disappointed as I am about today, I am really proud you even showed up. That alone really made her day,” she continues, getting up from the mattress to put her jewelry on the vanity. “I know you all fucked up about it, but I think you should try again. Despite what she said today, she really wants to do this right.” 

Erik sits on the edge of the bed now, deep in thought as he considers her words. “She said what she said, and I’m not boutta be disrespected again so she can live out this lil’ post-jail fairytale of being a mom to my grown ass.” 

“E, c’mon—”

“Nah, fuck that!” he interrupts her. “Stop tryna get me to understand her side and be all sentimental to her bullshit when I ain’t got no reason to be. What the fuck I need her for? I’m grown and I been living fine without her for all this time, so what’s the point in entertaining the shit?” 

Sienna almost can’t believe what she’s hearing. “You want to, though!” she exclaims. “You wanna know her. You wanna get back what you lost. You showed up today ‘cus you wanted to see your mother, and you’re mad that you let your emotions drive you to do so, but guess what? It’s okay, alright? No one is shaming you, so instead of holding onto all this damn hurt, just talk to her about it so you can let go of whatever grudge you got! Make the effort to heal, nigga!” 

“Why I gotta be the one to make the first move when I don’t even wanna fuck with her like that?” Erik pouts. 

“I don’t know what you have against her, but whatever the fuck it is, it needs to be discussed.” Sienna matches his energy with a similar expression, taking a seat on the vanity stool. “It’s not her fault you got left behind. She ain’t leave you ‘cus she wanted to.”

“Is that why she did crack?”

Sienna exhales sympathetically. “Nobody  _ chooses  _ to get addicted.”

“Oh, then why she do it?” He shrugs. “She  _ chose  _ to do drugs and  _ not  _ be a mother, and I’m supposed to forgive her for that? Yeah, a’ight. I don’t respect no shit like that.”

“Jobu forgave her,” Sienna tells him even though she knows it’s like setting off a stick of dynamite. 

He tuts, standing to head back into the closet and change clothes. “You gon’ stop throwing that in my face. I’m  _ not _ my father.”

“Krystal was right about that, I guess. Glad you two can agree on something.”

He stops dead in his tracks, swiveling around to shoot her a look and she isn’t even the slightest bit fazed. He could get mad, but he walked right into that. Krystal is right, but his head is so clouded with hatred and resentment that he refuses to let that manifest any further. 

“If you taking her side, you can go.” 

Her head tilts sideways, the nonverbal way of asking if he’s lost his mind. He answers with a nonchalant shrug and removes his shirt. She narrows her eyes and shakes her head. 

“I already told you I’m not taking sides—” she begins only to be cut off by the abrupt and forceful manner in which he throws his shirt in the direction of the closet, missing the hamper entirely. 

“ _ I said _ , if you taking her side,” he reiterates through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. “You. Can. Go.”

They have another stare-off, and the stillness of the room unsettles something within Sienna’s core. There’s a hurt that runs deep within Erik that she can’t fix, and she doesn’t even have the energy to fight him on it the way she usually would. Call it intuition or reading between the lines, she knows exactly what Erik is saying without blatantly saying the sentence. She almost can’t believe it, but like she said before, she’s  _ not  _ surprised. 

Utterly defeated and tired of going back and forth, she rises from the vanity and stays as far away from him as possible as she enters the closet to change into leggings, slides, and a sweatshirt. Even as he watches her gather her car keys and clutch, it doesn’t register that she’s actually leaving until she brushes past him towards the bedroom door. 

“Yo, where you going?” he questions, but she doesn’t acknowledge him as she descends the stairs. “Baby!” 

He rushes after her, leaning against the balcony as he watches her ignore him. “Where you think you going? Huh?” 

She can’t even look up at him, because if she does, she’ll start crying  _ again _ . Instead, she rummages through her clutch to assure she has everything, and sucks her teeth in annoyance when her phone isn’t there.

Erik’s stare is trained on her as she hops back up the stairs and into their bedroom. Her device is set right where she left it on the closet island, but before she can grab it, it’s swiped right from in front of her and held above her head. 

“Gimme my phone.”

“Where you going?” 

“Gimme my phone ‘fore I hurt yo’ feelings again.” 

“Tell me where you going.” 

She shakes her head in disbelief. “I’m not playing this game with you, Erik.”

“Oh, we back to Erik again. You  _ mad  _ mad.”

“Yeah, I’m  _ mad  _ mad. Gimme my fucking phone.” 

“Where you going?” Erik repeats.

Sienna swallows a tough lump in her throat. “You need time to yourself to get over this shit if you not gon’ face the problem head on. I want what’s best for you, and it’s best you do this by yourself.” 

His face scrunches up, lowering his arm and hiding her phone behind him. “What you saying?”

“You going through some shit right now.” She shrugs and wipes away a tear that crept past her shimmery eyelids. “I’m not tryna be here if you don’t want me here, making shit harder.”

He looks up and away, unable to take how sad she looks. “Girl, didn’t nobody say nothing about not wanting you here—”

“You didn’t have to.”

He exhales and sets her phone back on the island. “I’m not going through nothing, baby girl,” he insists softly, and it’s almost convincing because Erik has a way of easing her mind with just lowering his voice and using a special nickname. “I ain’t mean to get at you. That was some bitch nigga shit. You don’t gotta go nowhere, okay?”

“E, I don’t think—” 

“Baby,” he whispers, taking her chin in his hands to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “It’s okay. Everything gon be a’ight.” 

The look they share is more sincere than the ones before. The fire has left Erik’s eyes and his face has relaxed, any signs of anger gone just as quickly as they came. Sienna twists her mouth to the side in deliberation. 

“We gon’ be okay?” she asks.

He nods and squeezes her chin, leaning in for another kiss, but she stops him with a finger over his lips. His eyebrows rise in questioning. 

“We need a minute away from each other right now,” she tells him and before he can react, she’s shaking her head, denying any conclusions he might jump to. “I’m not leaving you like  _ that _ , so don’t trip. Lemme just go for the night, so you can just be one with your thoughts.” 

“I already told you I’m good.”

“Yeah, I got that, but please?” Her eyelashes bat double time, melting his insides. “I want what’s best for you, and I know you don’t see it how I do, but a night to yourself is what you need.” 

He doesn’t appear convinced or enthused about the idea, but he’s too tired to fight about it. He can’t stop Sienna from leaving and she’d put her foot down at him going with her wherever that may be. The apprehension stems from his obvious abandonment issues, but she won’t mention that. 

“What I’ma do all night by myself?” 

“Whatever you want.” She takes his hand in hers and cocks her head sideways in thought. “Smoke, eat, invite over one of ya lil’ girlfriends.”

“You got jokes.” 

Sienna smirks up at him. “I just want you to have time to yourself to reflect and be one with your thoughts. Meditate and shit.” 

“This what I get for being with a chick who moms a whole psychologist.” 

“She’s a psychiatrist.” 

“Same thing.” 

“It’s  _ really _ not.” 

“Man, whatever,” he sucks his teeth and frowns. “Where you going, f’real?” 

“Probably Ayesha’s.” 

Erik rolls his eyes. “My baby boutta be a whole ratchet when she come back,” he mumbles to himself, making Sienna chuckle as she wraps her arms around his torso and rest her head on his chest. “Unblended weave, a bad attitude, hella baby daddies and shit.”

“Don’t do her,” Sienna protests through a fit of laughter. “She don’t wear weave no more after she got banned from that beauty supply store for snatching bundles. She got a haircut, remember?” 

“Bitches cut they hair short and swear they Nia Long.” 

Sienna covers her mouth to outright scream at that, all the while vibrating with a serious case of the giggles. “Boy, shut up!” she exclaims, too out of breath to defend her friend. “I hate you.”

If there’s one thing Erik is good at, it’s cheering up Sienna. He and Krystal have that in common; she doesn’t think she’s ever laughed as much in her whole life as she does when she’s with either of them. 

As much as he doesn’t want her to, Sienna leaves that night and heads to Ayesha’s.

Erik, for as much time as he’s spent by himself, doesn’t take too kindly to being alone. He used to be well-adjusted to such a thing, but he’s completely spoiled by Sienna’s presence. 

An hour after Sienna leaves, Erik takes her advice, lighting a blunt while he cooks himself spaghetti. Instinctively, he cooks enough pasta for two and ends up eating at the kitchen table, boredly scrolling through his phone. It’s a sad sight, but he does what he can to not feel bad for himself. He definitely doesn’t think about Krystal, but he does wonder if contacting Sienna is out of bounds for getting in touch with his inner self. 

He’s  _ always _ in touch with his inner self; that’s who gets him in trouble in the first place. Erik can admit suppressed resentment and turmoil are within him, but it’s nothing he’s not already aware of. His mother didn’t have to come along for him to know that. If anything, she’s made it worse. 

He decides against calling her, not that she’d pick up anyway. If she did, she would tell him to just chill out, so he does. 

Another few hours pass and after screaming through multiple rounds of  _ 2K _ , doing laundry, and checking emails, Erik resigns to the comfort of their bed. It’s corny to admit, but it feels empty without Sienna taking up the vast majority of the mattress. Despite the size, she always finds herself laid right up under Erik, but he didn’t realize he’s so accustomed to it that he can’t sleep without her weight sprawled against him. 

His exhale seems so loud in the quiet dark of the bedroom. Even if it does take longer than usual, he eventually gets to sleep.    
  


The following morning, there’s a pleasant surprise snoring next to him clad in one of his Lost Tribe hoodies, her silk bonnet, and Christmas-themed pajama bottoms. Erik blinks passed the haze of sleep, staring at his significant other until his vision clears. 

He scoots her way, leaving little space between them as he places his elbows on either side of her head. The rest of his weight lies comfortably on her side, effectively stirring her awake. They lay there with Erik looking down at her while he twirls a lock of hair escaping the bonnet between his fingers. 

“What?” She grunts, the intensity of his stare making her face hot. 

He shakes his head, narrowing his gaze on each of her animated features one at a time. “You so pretty.”

“Shut up,” she moans, covering her face with her hands to hide her smile. “Go back to sleep, boy.” 

Erik rolls off of her only to yank her by her middle towards him. She yelps in surprise and giggles as he buries his face in her neck and holds her tight against his chest. 

“You had a nigga hella fucked up leaving me by myself and shit,” he grumbles, settling against her. “I should punish you.” 

“Shut’cho scary ass up,” she replies, intertwining their fingers over her middle. “You not gon’ do shit witcho baby ass.” 

“Yeah, a’ight. Talk all that shit like I won’t.” 

Sienna shuts her eyes. “Go to sleep,” she repeats and he obeys. 

  
  
  


When they awake the second time, Erik is on his side staring at her again. Halfway out of a dream state, she blinks up owlishly at him and pouts. 

“What?” 

He shakes his head and silently pecks her fat bottom lip. “You ready to get up?”

“What time is it?” 

Erik peaks at his phone on its charger. “Almost noon.” 

Sienna deliberates it for a moment and then nods. “Yeah, I guess so,” she agrees while yawning.

“Keep that stank-ass breath to yourself.” Erik cringes with feigned disgust. Sienna blows her breath in his face and kisses his scrunched up nose before rolling out of bed and heading towards the bathroom. 

Erik lays there on his back stretching and cracking his bones, emitting a loud yawn of his own. Absently scratching his beard, he begins to scroll through his phone just as he would any other morning, and he feels better now that yesterday is over. The shower begins to run and Sienna emerges from the bathroom to the linen closet for a towel. 

“What we doing today?” she asks upon entering the bedroom again. 

“It’s Sunday,” he reminds her. “We could go to church.” 

Sienna barks out a single laugh and heads back into the bathroom, shutting the door behind her. Erik grins at his attempt at a joke, goes back to scrolling his phone, and turns the TV on for background noise. 

She’s in there forever, and it’s usually something Erik is used to, but the insistent ringing and chirping of her phone distracts him from the basketball commentary and emails. It’s unlike him to look at the caller ID, but today he’s tempted because it’s so persistent. 

He isn’t sure how he should feel seeing Krystal’s name with an array of emojis attached to it—he figured the two of them wouldn’t cut off contact just because he told Krystal not to talk to Sienna, so he can’t get too mad or be surprised. 

However, the texts themselves trigger an attitude unlike any other and he’s out of bed knocking on the bathroom door like he’s the police. 

“Sienna!” he shouts, using all the bass in his voice. 

Erik saying her name instead of a nickname sounds foreign to the ears. The shower turns off instantly and seconds later, Sienna, wrapped in a fluffy pink towel, opens the door staring up at him like he’s lost his mind. 

“What the fuck you yelling for?” she barks, matching his energy just as loudly. “And since when do you know my government name?” 

“A’ight, look, I’ma ask you some’ and you better not lie ‘cus on everything I love, if you do, I’m leaving.”

Her eyes dart around, peeping her phone in his hand and then landing on his disapproving glare. She exhales tiredly as if to say  _ what the fuck is wrong with you now?  _ and leans on the threshold, waiting for him to continue. 

“Did you stay with Ayesha last night?”

“Yes,” she answers. 

He scoffs. “I'ma ask again: Did you stay with Ayesha last night?” 

Sienna’s eyebrows scrunch up. “Yes.” 

He doesn’t appear convinced and his annoyance projects in obnoxious waves onto her, resulting in an attitude of her own. The way he looks at her rivals how he looked at his mother yesterday, and the intuition tingling in the back of Sienna’s mind tells her nothing good will come of the impending conversation.

“You sticking with that?” he questions. 

She blinks up at him slowly. “Yes,” she says a third time. “Why?”

Erik chuckles humorlessly. “So, you ain’t spend the night with Krystal last night?”

Sienna shakes her head and exhales, finally tearing her eyes away from his because she can’t stand being on the receiving end of something so dark. “Where you getting this from?”

He lifts the phone to his face to read the texts. “ _ Thank you so much for last night _ ,” he says mockingly. “Your new bestie blew up your spot.  _ I never would’ve been able to get to sleep without you being here _ . Now what the fuck does that mean? Y’all sleeping together now?” 

Mouth agape, Sienna adjusts her posture to stand as straight as possible. “Have you lost your  mind?” she asks, snatching her phone from him. “Why you trippin’?” 

“Nah, you the one who lost they mind going behind my back and lying to my face. Why the fuck you spend the night at that bitch house?” 

“I didn’t spend the night with no bitch,” she tells him. “I went by Krystal’s apartment, we had a conversation, then I went to Ayesha’s.” 

“Then why the fuck she talmbout some you being there and having sleepovers and all that bullshit? Huh? Answer that!” he goes on, raising his voice. Sienna mentally checks out.

Nudging passed him and into the bedroom, Sienna shakes her head in disbelief. “You not gon’ be yelling and talking to me like you crazy after I done already told you what happened.”

“What kinda shit is that? You running to her, leaving my stupid ass all fucked up after she put her hands on me. You don’t even need to be entertaining her ‘cus she all she prolly want outta you is money for drugs, f’real,” he continues. “What happened to not picking a side, huh? How am I supposed to feel about you being close with this woman after all the shit she put me and my father through?” 

Sienna swiftly throws on cotton shorts and a sweatshirt, taking in her boyfriend’s words with a grain of salt. “You ever get tired of feeling sorry for yourself?” 

“Excuse me?” 

She plops onto the bed, watching him watch her. “You are in a lot of pain, E, and you have an opportunity to deal with it and you want me to sit around and feel sorry with you because why? Why should I have to hate her ‘cus you do?”

“You supposed to be on  _ my _ side.”

“I told you I’m not taking sides with this shit!” Sienna exclaims, slapping her thighs. “We not having this conversation again.” 

“We gon’ talk about it till I’m tired of talking about it. You did some foul shit, and I’m just supposed to take it, but let me call up a bitch you don’t fuck with and be cuddled up with her. And wait, lemme lie about it! You’d be hot!” 

Sienna stands to her feet. “Why is it so hard to believe that I didn’t spend the night with that woman? You know how foul I’d have to be for that?” 

“So why you do it, then?” he wonders, scratching his chin absently and side-eyeing his girlfriend like a stranger. “Why should I believe you didn’t when you been capping for her ever since that bitch entered our lives? What happened to your loyalty to me?” 

“Don’t talk to  _ me _ about loyalty,” she warns him, pointing a finger to herself and then him. “And don’t project  _ your _ bullshit with her onto me when all I’m trying to do is help you! I admit, yes, I saw her last night because she was in a bad way and needed someone there for her, but I didn’t stay the night. We didn’t fuck or whatever other bullshit you thinking.” 

“ _ So _ ,” Erik drags out the single syllable and slowly approaches her with his hand up in deliberation. “The fact of the matter is you left me to baby some woman you barely know.” 

Sienna grimaces. “Erik—”

“I already told you that if you taking her side, you can leave. You obviously have somewhere to go.”

_ “She’s your mother _ .”

“I don’t give a fuck.” 

She believes him. That’s the saddest part. 

Realizing that this is going to be a never-ending circle of stubborn arguments, Sienna swallows harshly and moves on autopilot as she puts her hands up in surrender and begins walking away from him.

“We not done,” he says. 

“No,  _ you _ not, but  _ I _ am. I’m not spending my Sunday arguing with you about this shit for the second day in a row,” she announces. “You can be mad about it but you not gon’ stop me from being friends with her, and if that means I’m taking her side, then fuck it.”

“If I did some shit like this to you, I’d be the foul one.”

Sienna shakes her head. “You choosing not to deal with your issues with Krystal has nothing to do with me. I’m your girl, Erik,  _ not _ your mother. I’m  _ not _ supposed to be on your side when I know how you doing her is wrong. I can’t fix whatever it is with the two of you, so stop acting like it’s my fault you can’t just talk to her about whatever the fuck it is that’s making you hate her so much.” 

Erik knows she’s right, but being the difficult person he is, he shakes his head at her, getting dressed as he does and then walks off just as she had a moment ago. 

Sienna doesn’t even turn to watch him go, but the slamming front door tells her all she needs to know. Without a second thought, she heads for the closet and begins packing a duffel.   
  


A part of Erik isn’t surprised that Sienna’s car isn’t parked in the garage when he pulls into their driveway after spending a few hours at his friends’ house. Even with seeing that, he still calls out her name when he enters and the only thing to answer is his own voice echoing off of the walls.

The bedroom looks the same, but the vibe is off. Everything is how he left it, but it’s  _ different _ somehow. 

For one thing, a small portion of Sienna’s side of the closet is empty, and that would be hard to tell with the abundance of clothes she owns. Her toothbrush and skin and hair care products are nowhere to be found in the bathroom. Even her favorite perfume, sandals, and jewelry are missing.

He expected her to leave, but he didn’t expect her to be gone.

Once the realization sets in, Erik immediately calls her only to get insistent ringing each time after the last. He looks and feels stupid standing there in the middle of their room, staring at her contact page and pressing the FaceTime button for the tenth time in a row until he’s finally sent straight to voicemail. 

“Fuck wrong with her?” he utters, sitting at the edge of the bed to steady himself as he opens their message thread to see if he missed a message. There’s nothing recent from her, so he texts first. 

> _ where are you? _

His patience only allows thirty seconds of waiting for a response before he sends another message. 

> _ nah srsly where are you?  _

_ > I know you seen these stop playing with me  _

_ > baby  _

He calls again and not to his surprise, he’s sent to voicemail again. 

If she really left about what happened this morning, he’s more out of touch with her than he thought. Erik won’t admit it out loud, but this hurts.

It hurts a whole lot. 


	2. ii.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love HalcyonSeasons.

Another day goes by without any word from Sienna, but it doesn’t stop Erik from trying to reach her. He pretends he’s not bothered and does his best to get work done at the Outreach Center even if his staff and the kids can tell he’s distracted. 

He sends what could be close to one hundred texts to her throughout the day, and a wave of relief washes over him when she finally responds to the one that matters most.

_ > at least let me know u safe princess _

_ < I’m fine… i love you _

  
  
  
  


Erik retired his crazy nigga tendencies along with Killmonger, but certain situations threaten the beast out of the cage. After another two days, he’s halfway ready to get in his car and pull up to the few places she’d normally be in the middle of the day. 

Her nail appointments are always scheduled on Wednesdays when her nail tech is available, so the likelihood of her being down the street this afternoon is high. It’s unlike him to chase after anybody, but the emotions he’s ignoring present themselves at the forefront of his mind. Her social media is quiet too, and by the grace of God, she didn’t block him from anything. 

He really doesn’t do well by himself.   
  
  


By Friday, Erik can barely take much more of being by himself. He’s not alone; he talks to his friends, staff, and even his cousins, but he’s definitely lonely in the most extreme sense of the word. On top of that, being ignored doesn’t soothe any nerves.

He thinks about Krystal and what she’s doing. Does she have friends? Does she have a job? Who does she live with? Has she seen Sienna?

It goes against his stubbornness to care if Krystal was thinking about him too, but it creeps up into his psyche out of nowhere. Why does he care if she might hate him? Plenty of people hate him, so why does he care _now_? 

“She’s your mother,” he huffs to himself, echoing Sienna’s words.   
  


Some hours later, Erik rides in his Audi to the other side of Oakland with a vague address and a distinct mission in mind. He’s relying on luck, something he hasn’t had in a long while. 

He huffs out a breath as he knocks on Ayesha’s screen door and waits patiently. The inside commotion of a crying baby, loud daytime television, and a barking Pomeranian bleed outward when Ayesha opens the door minutes later with a grimace and said dog in hand. 

Her mood worsens the second she lays eyes on Erik—he’s more than used to this look. “What do you want?” she groans.

Erik narrows his gaze at her as if to say _why you playing dumb?_

She matches his energy with a neck swivel and an eye roll. “What?” 

“I’m just tryna see Sienna. I don’t need all that attitude.”

“You not gon’ come up on my doorstep telling me about my attitude. Fuck you thought this was?” she starts, using her hands and long nails to expand on her point. “And besides, she not even here and if she was, she don’t wanna see you.” 

Erik rolls his eyes. “Anyway, tell her I’m here.” 

Ayesha puts a hand on her slim hip. “Them big-ass ears and you hard of hearing?” 

“Man, getcho lil’ baseball stadium forehead ass on and tell my girl I’m here.” 

“What you not gon do is come at me sideways at _my_ house, begging like a simp-ass nigga, crying for someone who not tryna fuck with you no more!” She makes a point to put her face in his.

Erik wants to resist going in on her, but Ayesha makes it too easy. 

“We all know you mad you ain’t got no man and that’s why you tryna block me from my piece witcho insecure self. I don’t give a fuck who house this is—”

“Getcho ass on, Erik! Nobody scared of you and watch how you talk to me ‘cus I will call my nigga to deal with your disrespectful ass!” she goes on, swerving her head around for emphasis while her fingers make their way to being in his face.

“I don’t care if you calling Ghostbusters! Just tell my chick I’m here or I’m popping this shit all the way off,” he threatens calmly, smirking at how agitated he can get this girl with just a few words.

They go back and forth arguing and raising their voices for what feels like forever until Sienna appears like a saving grace behind Ayesha with a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

“Girl, it’s alright,” she tells her friend and gives her a sure smile.

“Is you sure? ‘Cus this nigga was just leaving.” Her tone makes it clear that the last part of her statement was meant to be taken as a hint, but Erik stays right where he is.

Sienna nods and opens the door further. “We good, Ayesha. I’ll take care of him.”

“Yeah, and that’s your problem. Coddling his grown ass like you somebody’s mom when you should cut him off for good,” she snarks, giving Erik a once over as she makes her way back into the house. “With his no good ass.”

Before Sienna can intervene, Erik has a slew of insults at the ready. “You talking real bold for someone that had her lights cut off and had to eat your cereal with roach milk when they repossessed your refrigerator.”

“Nigga, fuck you—”

Sienna steps out onto the porch, slamming the door behind her and leaning against it with an eye roll. 

They take each other in, fixating on the little details they haven’t seen for themselves in nearly a week. She has on a pair of tight, black jeans that leave little to the imagination, a black off-the-shoulder crop top, and her neon pink toes poking out of a pair of iridescent platform heels that bring them eye to eye. Even her makeup is done, the gold glitter of her highlighter accenting the sparkle in her brown eyes. 

“Hi, Princess,” he greets with a soft grin and hearts in his eyes. She doesn’t fight the way her face twists into a smile.

“Hi,” she says shyly, twirling with the ends of her auburn, shoulder length, middle part unit.

He bites his lip, unable to resist taking her hand in his and rubbing his thumb along the length of her tattoo. “Where you going all pretty and smelling like peaches?”

Sienna eyes cast downward in an attempt to not get flustered, but it's in vain. “A date.” 

His eyebrows rise in interest, so he plays along. “With who?” 

“Just some boy who like me.”

Erik takes a step forward and wraps an arm around her waist to pull her forward, looking straight into her soul when he does.

“Let that wack-ass nigga know I’ll shoot him.”

Sienna’s arms instinctively loop under his because despite everything, she’s missed doing so. “Duly noted, _Killmonger_.”

He stares at her a little bit longer and then squeezes her tighter around the middle. “You really hurt a nigga feelings just leaving without saying nothing.”

Sienna winces. “You hurt my feelings first.” 

“I’m sorry I acted outta character.” 

“Are you really?” 

“Yes,” Erik admits. “It was fucked up, and I’m losing my mind without you. I just need you back at the crib, and we can work this shit out. Just come home and we gon’ be a’ight.”

Sienna’s sad yet hopeful smile mixed with the way she reluctantly pulls away cuts deep, and Erik keeps her hand wrapped in his to pull her back in. 

“This not a ‘we’ thing,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s deeper than what’s happening between us, and you know that.” 

“Okay, but it’s been damn near a week, and I know you been missing me too.”

“That’s besides the point. I miss you, but you don’t need me around—”

“Yo, c’mon, don’t start with that shit again.” 

“You don’t need me around for what you’re going through,” she finishes. “You don’t have to say it for me to get it. Doing right by Krystal would be doing right by yourself. Just—” She pauses, mentally searching for the right words. “Just healing. I know you tired of hearing it, but it’s good to just do good for yourself even if you don’t think you are.”

Erik looks down at their feet, thinking and rubbing a soothing thumb over the palm of her hand. 

“So, when you coming home?” he wonders aloud.

Sienna exhales and shrugs her shoulders. “I don’t know.” 

“But you are coming back, ain't you?”

“Only when you ready for me.”

“What’s that mean?”

Sienna doesn’t outright answer with her mouth the way her expression does. She instead checks her watch and takes her hand back. “I gotta go, E.” 

“You going out with Krystal.” 

“Nah,” she says, shaking her head. “A part of me feel like you’d rather I’d actually be going out with some random instead of her, though.”

Erik tries not to laugh at that considering its validity. 

“Ayesha and I going to eat and maybe Uptown tonight. Just a girls’ night, y’know?”

He nods in understanding and takes a longing look at Sienna, zeroing in on her shiny _N’Jadaka_ necklace. 

“Damn, you still here?” Ayesha’s voice interrupts their conversation, and Erik shoots daggers over Sienna’s shoulder. “C’mon, Sisi, this nigga cutting into bad bitch prep time.” 

“Yeah, lemme let you go,” Erik agrees, nodding over at Ayesha. “Your homegirl need as much time as she can get.”

Ayesha sneers and presents her middle finger before venturing back into the house, shouting that Sienna needs to do something about him. 

“You gotta stop messing with her,” Sienna tells him. “You know she sensitive.” 

“So? She started it.”

“You such a baby.” She shakes her head with a fond grin. “Don’t know what I’ma do with you.” 

“You can gimme a kiss and stop acting like you don’t like me,” he says, pulling her closer than what she thought was possible, practically breathing into her mouth for her. “We too far gone for kisses?” 

She makes a contemplative noise, tilting her head in thought. “I don’t know, E.”

“C’mon, ma, I been without you for a minute,” he teases. “Just one lil’ kiss so I don’t die.”

“You so fucking dramatic.” 

“I’m almost as spoiled as you.” 

Sienna keeps grinning at him—he has a point. “A’ight, fine. If it’ll shut your begging ass up—”

His lips meet hers before she can finish the taunt, and just as he thought, her lip gloss tastes as good as it smells. Without even thinking about it, she melts into him and gives into the way his lips and tongue play their little game with hers. There’s no reason why a man’s lips could legally be _this_ soft… 

They don’t notice that his hands are planted on her backside or that her arms are completely wrapped around his neck until they pull an inch apart on account of Ayesha’s yelling. 

“She _really_ know how to get on a nerve.”

“You lowkey got a crush on her.”

“Ratchet not my type.”

Sienna huffs and pulls back. “I seen your exes, and _yes_ , it is.” 

“So, what that make you?” 

“First of all, I’m not your ex.” 

“You sure? Cus you ghosted like you ain’t want none’ to do with me, so maybe you are.”

A glossy pink grimace worms its way on Sienna’s mouth. “You miss the part where you pretty much kicked me out or you got selective memory?” 

“How I’ma kick you out your own house? Nobody told yo’ dramatic ass to go nowhere. You left ‘cus you wanted to.”

“I’m not finna argue with you about this!” she groans, shaking her head. “You said it without saying it.” 

“See, that’s you hearing some’ and making up shit in your head.” 

“No, that’s me reading between the lines and then you come to your senses alluva sudden, begging me to come home when you don’t got no act right.

Patience running alarmingly thin, Erik matches her energy and takes a step away, shaking his head. “You have a good night, a’ight? Stay with Ayesha ratchet ass as long as you need.” 

Sienna crosses her arms over her chest, taking a step backwards too. “I will,” she says. “Matter fact, I might not come back since I’m your ex now.” 

“Yeah a’ight,” he answers, disregarding the empty threat as he removes the thick, gold chain from his neck. “Turn around.”

“Say please, rude-ass."

“Turn around, _please_ , spoiled-ass.”

Sienna complies, moving her hair over shoulder as he clasps the jewelry.

“Need these niggas to know who girl you are when you going out all cute like this, especially when yo’ simple ass don’t know it your damn self,” he explains, and Sienna turns around to face him. “Not that anybody gon’ be looking at yo ugly ass.” 

She runs a hand over the jewelry and scoffs. “I know you not talking about someone being ugly. You built like earring backs.”

“You smell like earring backs.” 

“You can’t even spell earring backs.” 

“Ya mama eat earring backs.” 

“Oh, you wanna talk about mothers!” Sienna sings, twirling in a circle with her mouth halfway covered with a cupped hand. “You wanna talk about mothers! It’s mother time!” 

Erik chuckles, genuinely amused. “Your goofy ass need to be put in check.” 

“Yeah, a’ight,” she says in a weak imitation of her boyfriend then laughs at herself. “Getcha ass outta here, E. I’m tired of looking at you. ”

Erik doesn’t fall for the bait and instead, leans in quickly to peck Sienna’s cheek. “Could never get tired of looking at yo’ ass.” 

Her resistant smile loses out to a fake grimace as she stares him down on his way off of the porch and towards his Audi. “I can’t stand you.” 

“I luh you, too.”

And he means it. 

Even if she isn’t going back with him to their home—that he didn’t realize is too big for just one until she left—he means it. 

Sienna and Ayesha go out and the evidence comes in the form of multiple Instagram posts that somehow worsen and elevate Erik’s mood. Obviously, he loves to see his woman happy and enjoying herself, but a hushed whisper in the back of his mind reminds him how much she doesn’t need him. 

The depressing thought comes out of nowhere as he makes himself dinner, and it stops him dead in his tracks. He’s always known she doesn’t particularly need him in the way he needs her, but their current situation just makes it that more obvious. 

He exhales, turning the burner on the stove down so not to burn the burger sizzling in the pan. 

Sienna doesn’t need him—he hates admitting it. 

Krystal doesn’t either—he hates admitting that it makes him sad. 

Erik hasn’t been truly sad for a long time. 

Or maybe he’s been sad this whole time, and he didn’t know.

He knows it. He definitely knows it. 

Impulse fuels his next course of action. 

  
  


♡

  
  


Two days later, Erik sits in Sienna’s favorite coffee shop, tapping his knuckles rhythmically against the wooden tabletop, eyes trained on the door. He sits there alone, only ever looking away from the door to check the time, well aware he’s nearly a whole hour early. The bustle of busboys, baristas, patrons, and the like continue in a routine hurry while Erik sits there frozen in time with his own thoughts.

Despite that, his wait is cut short when a silver hatchback pulls into the parking lot and Krystal hops out of the passenger’s seat after exchanging what looks like parting words with the driver. His nerves almost get the better of him, but instead of booking it out the backdoor like he wants to, he stays seated and watches his mother enter the shop, glance around for him, and then offers a small curve of the lips as if to say _I come in peace_ when their eyes meet. Her leather thigh highs click and clack with each confident step over to the table, and her all too familiar perfume overpowers the aroma of coffee and spices when she sits across from him. 

Erik nods to himself at nothing in particular, analyzing her like he’s never seen her before. 

In a way, he hasn’t. 

The only reason Krystal doesn’t get weirded out is because she’s staring back just as closely, and she could practically cry at how beautiful the man before her is.

She breaks the silence. “You look good, Erik.” 

He nods again. “You don’t look too bad ya’self.” 

“Issa lot better than jumpsuit orange.”

Erik huffs in agreement, glancing away. They sit in awkward silence for what feels like forever until Krystal sets her arms on the table and leans inwards to address him quietly. 

“Look, I ain’t agree to come here to fight or no shit like that, so if you was planning on beating my ass, you should’ve just met me in the parking lot.” 

He shakes his head and waves that off. “I just want a conversation.”

Krystal squints at him and pulls away, arms crossing over her chest. “You don’t got no goons waiting for me when I leave?”

“Nah, this ain’t all that.” 

“Hmmph,” she hums, cocking her head to the side to read him further and grins to herself smugly. “I guess.” She nods to him. “So, wassup? We here ‘cus Sisi not talking to you either?” 

Erik doesn’t get flustered often, but the sensation comes along at Sienna’s mention. He clears his throat as if that will help the temperature in his face go down and meets her gaze. “She not talking to you?” he asks.

Krystal shakes her head. “Last I spoke to her was a week or some’ ago about some stuff and how she wanna start distancing herself,” she explains. “I don’t blame her.”

“She made a point. I just wanna dead the bullshit, a’ight?” 

Krystal nods in agreement. “You got yourself a good girl. She don’t play about you, you know that?” 

Erik’s cheeks burn further, but he ignores it. 

“Where you even find her at?”

He thinks back on their first moments together fondly. “She was just visiting up here from L.A. to see some friends,” he tells her. “Her bougie ass caught my attention, and I just wanted to know what was up.” 

“And what was up?” 

“She wasn’t really feeling me at first. Gave a nigga a hard time until I just wouldn’t get out her face and she decided to entertain me,” he admits with a shameless shrug. 

“Three years later, here you two are.” 

“Surprised she not tired of me yet,” he admits aloud before he can stop himself. 

“She too damn crazy about you. Keep her around.” 

“I plan to.” 

“Good,” she says with a smile. “‘Cus I want grandbabies.” 

Erik doesn’t bother masking his shock when he scrunches his face up and side-eyes the woman before him. Krystal puts her hands up in surrender and smiles wryly until her dimples show. 

“I’m just saying. You two would make great parents. That kid wouldn’t get away with shit.”

He doesn’t respond at first, but he thinks on it as she keeps talking. 

“You know, uh, that’s kinda how me and your father met.” She looks out the window as though she sees the memory unfolding before her. “I was prolly some’, like, nineteen or twenty when he moved into the old neighborhood. I’m pretty sure I was in love with him before I ever talked to him. All the girls was ‘cus think about it: nice looking dark skin dude with money comes outta nowhere and we find out he educated and is down for the cause? You be dumb not to wanna get to know him. I tried to and I don’t think he liked me very much.” She chuckles and shakes her head. “We was the complete opposite, but there was something about him. I ain’t know how to be nice and I was so used to dealing with bum niggas, I’m pretty sure I just bullied the nigga into being my boyfriend.” 

She pauses to laugh and shake her head. “That man knew how to do any and everything except deal with me. I know I didn’t make it easy.” Her smile fades but the joy still reaches her eyes. “He wanted to save people and he did. I wasn’t one of them, and it’s not ‘cus he couldn’t. I just wouldn’t let him.” 

Erik’s eyes flick upward. “Why?” 

Krystal ponders a moment and shrugs again. “I made a lot of fucked up choices. Did a lot of fucked up shit. Addiction is hard, and damn, I used to hate when my grandma would get religious on me, but she say it’s like the devil. She was right. I had issues, and I guess it’s part of the reason why Jobu was so passionate about staying in Oakland. That and well, you.”

His face must ask a question his mouth doesn’t because she answers it anyway. “No, I didn’t do any of that stuff when I was pregnant with you. I was a year sober when we had you. Jobu would’ve killed me if I even thought about it. ”

Erik looks back down at his knuckles as they begin to tap again. “What made you relapse?” 

“Sometimes you don’t need a reason. It just…” Her sentence trails off while her eyes wander outside again. “It just happens. I be a lie if I say I didn’t mean to, but I did. I knew it would upset your father, but it was just so hard to say ‘no.’” 

“Not even when you had a family who needed you?”

Krystal flinches at the slight jab, but it doesn’t dim the light in her eyes. “We all suffered. I know that I contributed to a lot of your pain, and if I could turn back time and make myself put down the crack pipe, not assault a cop, and not get arrested, I would. I would’ve made Jobu take you to Wakanda and keep you there so you wouldn’t have suffered, but shit, I didn’t. I know I fucked up.” 

He shakes his head. “I just don’t see how you could’ve when you had so much to stay clean for.” 

“I know you don’t. I don’t either,” she concurs. “Jobu put me up in rehab about four times, and I fought hard. Especially after having you. I was young, irresponsible, and wanted better for you than what I could offer. Lord knows I ain’t have no business trying to take care of you _and_ myself. I always counted on your father to be there for you while I got my shit together, and when he couldn’t be, it hurt, okay, baby? It hurt some’ bad.” 

Erik averts his glare upward with a frown. “I don’t hate you, if that’s what you thinkin’.”

“Yeah, but you don’t particularly like me, do you?” she replies rhetorically, and he squares his shoulders in defense. 

“I don’t know you.” 

“Then why you ain’t want nothing to do with me when Sisi told you I was out?” The question comes out more curious than accusatory, and guilt takes the spot of flustered within him. 

He says nothing.

“You had a preconceived idea of me, so I get it,” she continues, regarding her son as though he’ll disappear if she blinks. “I can’t control what Jobu told you ‘bout me, and I know it’s too late to try and change your opinion now when all you know of me is that I’m some addict who chose drugs over her family.” 

“Nobody chooses to get addicted,” he repeats Sienna’s words. 

“Nah, they don’t.” Krystal exhales. “I still should’ve been there for you, though.” 

“They would’ve taken me away anyway.”

_He has a point._

“You ain’t answer my question,” she reminds him. “Why you ain’t wanna see me, huh? That shit hurt a bitch feelings. I’m not even gon’ lie.” 

“You already answered it. You seem to already know me damn well if the other day is anything to go by.” 

She cocks her head sideways, sighing in defeat. “A’ight, look, E. I apologize for hitting you. That shit wasn’t cool at all, and if it mean some’, I ain’t never gotten cussed out the way Sisi did on that ride home in my entire twenty some’ years in jail for that shit.”

“She got in my ass, too,” he says. “That bitch comment was wrong as fuck.” 

“Yeah, but you meant it,” she tells him, and he can’t begin to deny it. “I get it. I came at you hard outta nowhere, talking shit I ain’t have no business mentioning ‘cus of where I been. I apologize for that, baby. It might not matter to you, but that Killmonger shit scared me when I read up on everything that happened. It was the last thing I wanted for you, and I can only say sorry for not being there to stop it.” 

As desensitized as Erik is to his past, the shame evident on Krystal’s face makes him uncomfortable. 

“It would’ve happened whether you was there or not,” he confesses.

She nods, understanding. “You wasn’t scared of coming home and having people look at you different?” 

He shakes his head. “A part of me figured I wasn’t coming home. Or rather, coming back here.”

The twinge of sadness in Erik’s tone gets tears pooling in Krystal’s eyes, but she fights them with rapid blinking and sniffling.

“This where you belong,” her voice cracks despite clearing her throat. “No disrespect, but Wakanda not for you. That’s not your world. Those people will never know what you about no matter how hard you try to show them. The people here get it ‘cus they come from the same streets you do. You help them by being here, not trying to rule an empire that will only ever see you as an angry-ass nigga who go around killing for the sake of killing.”

_She has a point._

“If there’s anything I know about you,” she continues, pointing at him with a red manicured nail. “I know you just like N’Jobu. You his son, f’real. You got my face though, so you welcome.”

She chuckles at herself and it brings a smile to both of their faces. They sit there a moment, just thinking, glancing over at each other, waiting for the other to say something else. Krystal looks like she has more to say, and for once, he wants to listen.

“Aye, you want some’ to drink?” He offers, nudging her hands folded across the table then gesturing to the bar. “I imagine coffee prolly evolved since you been away.”

Krystal follows his gaze. “I wouldn’t even know where to start. What you usually get?” 

“I really don’t drink this shit but Sienna do, and she be getting some weird sugary concoctions that don’t make no sense.” 

She shrugs. “Surprise me.” 

Erik stands in line and orders the closest thing to what Sienna would for Krystal and a water for himself. When he arrives back to the table, his mother eyes the blended, cinnamon drink dubiously then takes a test sip through the straw. 

Her mouth scrunches up. “Yeah, that tastes like some shit she’d like.”

“She found this spot when she first moved down here,” he explains. “Lived here all my life and pass this place everyday and never thought to give it a shot ‘til she dragged me here.” 

“She been putting me on to some new shit, too. I’m f’real when I say you should marry her.” 

Erik tuts. “If she stick around that long.” 

“You do wanna marry her,” she prompts, eyebrows flying upward. “Right?”

Erik can count on one hand how many times he’s thought about marriage in general; his parents never wed, so it truly never crossed his mind until he met Sienna’s parents who’ve been together for thirty years. Imagining himself with the _same_ person for that long, with the _same_ feelings, doing the _same_ things everyday with little to no change…

Given how his life has gone, he wouldn’t mind that. 

More often than not, he refers to Sienna as his wife or ‘wifey’ in his head anyway. 

“Yeah,” he answers, briefly picturing them together thirty years from now with their children’s children, suppressing a grin. 

“You got yourself a good thing,” Krystal reminds him. “Don’t let her go nowhere. She dangerous.” 

His face twists up. “That girl wouldn’t hurt a fly.” 

“Nah, but she got somebody who would burn down a village for her.” Krystal tilts her head toward him. “All she gotta do is ask and that makes her very dangerous.” 

_Again, she has a point._

He can’t deny it, so he won’t.

“You right.”

“I know.” 

“You was right the other day, too.” 

She stares at him blankly. “Oh.”

“When you was talking about me feeling some type of way ‘bout you and my girl.” He almost can’t believe he’s admitting this. “I ain’t like it ‘cus I thought I was jealous about _you_ being so close with _her_ when actually—”

His throat closes up on him, and the universe must really hate him if it’s gonna make him cry in the middle of this coffee shop to his estranged mother about his abandonment issues. The frown on his face deepens while his eyes cast downward in an attempt to shield the moisture forming there.

She notices anyway, and the mere sight of it gets her just as emotional. 

“Baby, you don’t have to—” 

“Nah, hold up,” he snaps, wiping a lone tear from his eye before it can reach his cheek and shutting his eyes to stop the rest. His breath quickens out of nowhere, and before his body can comprehend what’s happening, another handful of tears leak and roll down his face.

They’re brushed away hastily as is the quiver of his bottom lip when he looks back up at a patient Krystal. 

“I thought I was trippin’ off the two of you being close ‘cus I was jealous of you, but I was actually jealous of her.” Erik shakes his head through the croaky admission. “Shit just seemed unfair ‘cus I wanted to know what to do to get that.” 

Her fully grown, thirty-year-old son sits before her, but all she can see is that tiny toddler in N’Jobu’s lap putting his hand against the glass with the jail phone up to his ear, asking when she’ll come home so they can watch cartoons. He hasn’t grown as much as he thinks he has from the baby in his highchair who needs his mother despite their time apart and words of hurt disguised as hatred. 

“You don’t have to do anything, Daka,” she tells him, wiping away tears from her cheek and then reaching over to dry his face with her thumb. Surprisingly, he allows the contact and instinctively submits into her tender, familiar touch. “I’m back, and unless you want me to, I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

Those words break the dam, sending Erik into heavy sobs, burying his face in his hands to hide. Krystal is out of her seat and by his side, rubbing his back and shoulders soothingly while he cries tears he’s been too ashamed to for the past twenty years. 

As his tears come to a slow halt, he excuses himself to the restroom to run water over his face. When he returns to the table, Krystal is back on her side of the table. 

“My bad,” he apologizes low in his throat.

“You good.” 

“I ain’t mean to.” 

She shakes her head. “Everybody needs to cry sometime.”

“Yeah, but—”

“But nothing,” she stops him. “Big-ass, grown niggas like you gotta cry sometime, even if it’s about little shit like Sisi. That girl cry about _everything_.” 

“Yeah, she do.” 

“Maybe you should hold off on babies. Don’t nobody need to hear her crying more than usual for ten months and shit.” 

Erik chuckles. “Don’t do my baby like that, Krys.” 

  
  


Neither of them can’t recall how it happens, but they end up talking and occupying the table for another three hours. When they end up going their separate ways, Krystal parts with a comforting hand on his shoulder and a promise to stay in touch. A rush of adrenaline gets him out of his seat and rushing outside to stop her. 

She’s taken aback at his forcefulness when he wraps his arms around her shoulders and pulls her into his chest. Her body tenses for a second, but once she’s certain he’s not actively choking her out, she hugs him back, squeezing him as if her life depends on it.

♡

_ > yo u need to get home NOW _

_ > idk how it happened but ya wigs is on fire  _

**_< Princess💍 would like FaceTime…_ **

Erik’s phone continues to chime and vibrate with crazed messages and incoming calls that he ignores while he idly traipses around the kitchen, peeling an orange. Not long after he sends the initial message is there a car screeching up the driveway and the front door being burst through like a SWAT team raiding a crack den. 

_ “Erik _ !” Sienna screeches above the limits of her voice as she zooms right past the kitchen, up the stairs, and into their bedroom. “ _ Negro _ ,  _ what did you do?! _ ” 

He pops a slice of the fruit in his mouth, chewing as he leans against the counter and listens to his girlfriend scream and stomp around the upper level in search of him and the allegedly burnt wigs. The house goes quiet for a moment before she races downstairs and finds him in the kitchen. 

To say she looks like a woman gone mad is an understatement. 

Her daggers could cut diamonds. 

“You look like you got jumped,” he comments in between chews. 

She blinks at him. “I’m boutta jump  _ you _ ,” she threatens. “My fucking wigs are fine. What the hell you scare me for?” 

He shrugs. “I just needed you to come by.”

Sienna crosses her arms over her chest. “So, you scare me halfway to death? The fuck wrong with you? Why you ain’t just tell me what you needed over text? Why am I here, E?” 

A sly smirk spreads across his face. “You young girls with this texting shit. We need to get back to that face to face type love.” 

Sienna blinks at him again. “I’m boutta slide you.”

“Ooh, that’s that Ike Turner shit.”

“ _ Erik _ .”

“My name Daddy.” 

Sienna strides over, unsure of how she’s going to fuck him up just yet, but Erik catches her in a tight embrace before she can land a hit on him. 

“Calm down, Princess,” he says and plants a sweet kiss on her forehead as she squirms in his grasp. “I need Mama Vee macaroni and cheese recipe. That’s it.” 

Sienna jerks away just enough to point a long finger in his face. “You damn near sent me into cardiac arrest over some shit you could’ve texted my moms about?”

“I had to make it sound urgent or ya lil’ difficult ass was gon’ be asking too many questions, being stubborn.” 

“Like I said, nigga, why am I here?”

“I just need the recipe. You might as well write the shit down since you already over here.” 

She grimaces at him, rolling her eyes as she strides out of the kitchen, mumbling how she can’t stand him. A pen and notebook occupy her hands when she strolls back in.

He stands beside her, watching her write bent over the counter with a crease in between her eyebrows. The silence goes on for too long until she pipes up with, “As many times as I done made this for you, and you don’t remember how to cook it.” 

“Yeah, a’ight.” 

“Why you even need it anyway?”

“I’m having a guest over Sunday, and I promised her a home-cooked meal.”

Sienna’s hand stops writing and she side-eyes her boyfriend. “ _ Her _ ,” she repeats and stands upward to stare straight into his soul. “You  _ really _ want me to kill you, don’t’chu?”

“I mean, you welcome to join us, baby. I was gon’ properly invite you ‘til you came through here on that domestic violence shit.”

Sienna snickers. “You think I wanna sit up here and watch you make my mama’s food for another bitch? I’ll kill you  _ and  _ her. Keep playing with me.”

Erik chuckles again. “I was hoping you’d wanna move back in before then, so we can properly cook for our guest together.” 

“ _ We _ ,” she scoffs. “ _ Our _ . Boy, fuck you.”

His hands go up in surrender. “I don’t wanna be the one to tell Krystal you not tryna have her over.” 

Her eyes soften, and the tension releases from the rest of her body at the mention of his mother. “Wait,” she says, lifting a skeptical eyebrow. “Krystal... as in ya mama?”

“You know another Krystal?”

“What you gettin’ smart for?” She faces him and stares him down, searching for any signs of humor. “What you even talking ‘bout?” 

“You suspicious as hell,” he says. “I invited my moms over for dinner on Sunday.”

“So you can poison her?”

“Nah, it’s not all that.” 

“Stab her with a kitchen knife?”

“No.”

“Then what is it?” 

He shrugs his gigantic shoulders and nonchalantly scratches his beard. “We had a conversation and figured we should catch up on lost time. Nothing crazy.”

Sienna squints at him and places the back of her hand against his forehead to test his temperature. “You feeling okay?”

“I’m fine, baby,” he promises and takes her hand in his to kiss her knuckles.

“When did all this happen?” 

“Few days ago. Just figured it was useless to be walking ‘round here sad and shit if I ain’t have to be.” 

The information must not compute right in Sienna’s head because she’s still staring at him like he’s every type of crazy. She might be holding off on celebrating and rubbing  _ I told you so _ in his face in case he’s joking.

But would Erik joke about this?

“You don’t believe me,” he concludes, but she shakes her head and places a tender hand to his  sides.

“Nah, it’s just a lot to take in. I didn’t think you’d  ever get to that point with her.” 

“She being patient with me.” 

Their hands intertwine. 

“You made the first move?” 

He nods. “She was just as shocked as you was. Thought I had some shooters waiting for her.”

“I don’t blame her.” 

“Yeah, neither do I.”

Sienna’s thumb rubs across his knuckles. “Wow,” she whispers, relieved and happy. “If I’m real, I wouldn’t have thought you’d go through with it. I’m proud of you.”

Erik’s chest tightens; he doesn’t hear that often. “So, you gon’ come over?”

“If you want me to.” 

“I do.” 

“Then I’ma be here.” 

“Good. I gotta get you outta Ayesha’s spot before you start wearing synthetic weaves and telling people you part Indian.”

“I hate you!” she giggles, slapping his chest playfully and then resting her head there. “I missed your ugly ass.”

“Yeah, bet’cho ass won’t leave me again.” 

Sienna squeezes her hand around his and sighs contently. “I won’t,” she promises and turns to look up at him. “So, what did you and Krys talk about?” 

Erik tells her everything. 


End file.
